


Bloodlines

by AvoidingAverage



Series: Cops and Robbers [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Banter, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cop Geralt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Good Friend Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Robbery, Service Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Temporary Character Death, Texting, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, cops and robbers, thief jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvoidingAverage/pseuds/AvoidingAverage
Summary: “I’m going to disappoint you,” he said softly, a note of sorrow in his tone.  “But you knew that already.”____________________As Geralt begins to narrow his search for the criminals responsible for the robbery, his relationship with Jaskier continues to force him to choose between his search for the truth and his feelings for the thief.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Cops and Robbers [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650430
Comments: 223
Kudos: 670





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since the plot is picking up and really developing from this point onwards, I will be posting the chapters all in one place. I know I've been teasing my explicit chapter, but I promise it is coming. Yennefer just stole the show first. The tags will probably update as we progress although I always hold to my promise to write a happy ending.
> 
> Good news is there will be lots more action coming up--both sexy and non. ;)

Geralt stared at the wall of information in front of him and tried to resist the urge to stab something.

After following his hunch from the party that the robbery was not a singular event, but rather the latest in a series, he’d found himself practically buried under a list of at least thirty robberies over the last year. Each of them were still opened, still unsolved. No one had any reason to connect them into a larger pattern. There were too many unanswered questions. All police seemed sure of was that the thieves must have had insider knowledge and that none of the stolen goods had reappeared on the black market as far as they knew.

In an effort to see if there were any patterns to the crimes, Geralt had pulled off the few pictures he’d hung on one wall of his living room--a photo of Roach at her retirement and a picture of goddaughter Ciri grinning over an award for top marks in her class--and pinned a large map of the United States in the space. He’d carefully marked each robbery that followed the same MO as the one he’d stumbled upon with a red push pin and the outliers with a blue pin. 

That had been hours ago.

The excitement of maybe figuring something out had waned under the massive amount of information this case was producing. His hospital leave would run out in the next week and he would be back to his usual workload which meant he needed to make headway on this case quickly. Davidson had already proved to be overburdened with his own caseload and uninterested in pursuing Geralt’s hunches and flimsy leads when robberies were rarely solved. So, by his best guess, he had five days to uncover a potentially national crime ring with few resources and no support. Easy.

On the coffee table, his phone chirped happily and Geralt paused in his frustrated musings to walk over and open the new message. 

**[Annoyance: 08:27]** _Good morning, love. Have any dreams about me?_

Geralt’s lips twitched at the rumbling purr he imagined reading each word. Since their kiss at the party, Jaskier’s flirtation had become more and more present in each of their conversations. Geralt still teetered back and forth on his feelings for the thief--torn between his knowledge of how much this would hurt when it ended and the inescapable attraction he felt for Jaskier. His fingers twitched over the keys for a long moment before he began to type.

**[Me: 08:29]** _no_

**[Annoyance: 08:30]** _you wound me. Why not?_

**[Me: 08:31]** _never went to sleep_

A knock at the door distracted him from a daydream about how good Jaskier had felt when he’d pressed against him and Geralt looked up in time to watch Yennefer unlock his door and saunter inside. She tossed a bag from the nearby coffee shop onto the couch beside him, but didn’t extend the second cup of coffee in her hand.

“Time’s up, Geralt,” she declared with a narrow eyed stare, “You need to tell me what’s going on with you and this robbery case.” She glanced at the phone still in his hand and flattened her lips into a scowl, “ _ And _ who you’re talking to.”

**[Annoyance: 08:31]** _ what am I going to do with you? You need to take better care of yourself _

“Maybe I’m talking to Ciri,” Geralt drawled as he investigated the contents of the bag and studiously didn’t look at the message flashing on the screen. Two large breakfast sandwiches greeted him.

“While Ciri is wonderful, you don’t get that dopey eyed look in your eyes when she texts you. So who is it really?”

Geralt looked at his partner, debating how badly this could go for him if he tried to take the food and run. Yen bared her teeth at him in silent threat as though she could guess what he was thinking and held the coffee cup further out of reach. He sighed. “It’s for the case.”

“The robbery case?” she asked as she settled on his couch, regal as a queen even in sweatpants, and offered him the coffee as an incentive to keep talking. “The one Davidson is doing a shitty job investigating?”

**[Annoyance: 08:40]** _what are you doing today?_

Geralt hummed in pleasure at the first taste of bitter coffee in his mouth and used the drink as an excuse to pause while he considered how much he should tell her. His partner knew him far too well to accept any lie he gave her. The longer he waited to tell the truth the more likely it would lead to his secrets driving a rift into their friendship. Despite how often she annoyed him, Yennefer was a good partner and had proven her loyalty countless times in the field--even if she gave him shit for it later. She deserved to know the truth more than anyone.

So, he gestured to the wall and his map. 

“I think the robbery at the museum is connected to a string of crimes along the coast,” he explained and Yennefer got up to look at the map with new interest. “None of the stolen objects have been sold so far which means they’re smarter than the average thief.”

“Or they have a financer backing them.”

Geralt nodded, already coming to the same conclusion. “But I can’t find any other connection between the cases--they’ve hit art museums, private galleries, and public collections. No one has any major leads or even possible suspects once the employees are cleared. And they always are,” he said with a growl of annoyance.

Yennefer continued to stare at the map, running her fingers over the pins without disturbing them. “So you’re mysterious phone friend is your link?”

This was where everything could go wrong, he thought. A moment where he risked his future in the hope that Yennefer would trust him enough to choose not to turn him in for breaking every code of conduct for a police officer. It would put Jaskier at risk and whatever this  _ thing _ growing between them.

**[Annoyance: 08:45]** _geralt?_

“Not exactly,” he answered after a long enough pause that she turned away from the wall and stared at him.

A dark eyebrow raised in silent question.

“He’s…” Geralt winced in preparation for what was coming, “the one who left me in the closet.”

There was a beat of silence before Yennefer made a noise similar to a goose being struck by a wiffle bat.

“ _ What _ ?”

“He’s another thief, but he wasn’t working with them. I think he knows something about them though.”

Yen gaped at him. “You’ve been talking with him?”

Geralt winced, but pointed to the flip phone on the table. “He texts me.” Yennefer immediately reached for the phone which he quickly pulled out of reach, “I’ve already tried running a trace on it. It’s too old for any of the software traces that the department has access to and he never says anything that I could use to find him.”

“But he finds  _ you _ ,” Yen said.

Geralt stared at her but didn’t protest.

**[Annoyance: 08:48]** _geralt? I’m starting to worry_

His partner stood, pacing away from him. Her brow furrowed into a scowl that translated into the sharp movements of her hands raking through her dark hair and dislodging the neat ponytail it had been in. “Why haven’t you reported this?”

“I tried talking to Davidson. He isn’t following through with the case as it is and I--”

“What is he to you?” Yennefer interrupted and Geralt was reminded of exactly why he was so afraid to tell her about Jaskier. 

“He’s not with them,” Geralt said weakly. “He’s just a friend.”

She snorted derisively and gestured to his neck, “A friend who gave you a hickey?”

“I--I, it’s not--” Geralt’s hand flew up to his neck where the collar of his shirt was covering the dark mark left behind by Jaskier’s lips at the party. “How did you know about that?”

“I was fishing,” she answered with a flat stare, “but thanks for making it easy.” Geralt flushed and looked down at the phone in his hands. “You’ve gone too far with this.”

Geralt bit his lip and met her eyes for the first time. “I know.”

“They could have your badge for hiding this information from your supervisor.”

“I know.”

“You’ve gotten attached to this--this  _ thief _ and are risking everything you’ve worked for over the last eight years.”

He winced, but Yennefer wasn’t known for her mercy.

“Tell me, Geralt, when you are left jobless and penniless in the ruins of your reputation, do you think your thief will still want you then?”

**[Annoyance: 08:50]** _did I do something wrong?_

“It isn’t like that.” Every word felt like acid in his mouth.

He knew how this would end. Jaskier was just one more surprise away from disappearing for good. The fear in the thief’s eyes at the party told him that there was far more at stake here than a few dusty treasures. He was in too deep with the investigation. How long before he decided the risk was too great to stay? 

Promises were easy to break.

Geralt gestured toward the map. “There’s something bigger going on here. It’s too widespread for this to be some hit and run group. They have a financer that’s keeping them afloat and connecting them to buyers.” He stared up at Yennefer, pleading with her to do something he knew she shouldn’t. “I need to finish this.”

She paused and eyed him with a complicated expression. “Why is this so important to you?”

“They attacked me. It means I’m getting close.”

“ _ These _ are the people who attacked you?” she asked incredulously, “You told me it was a random mugging.”

“I didn’t know for sure until the party.”   
  


Yennefer paused and took a deep breath, pressing her fingers against the bridge of the nose like she was praying for patience. “Your thief was at the party. That’s why you brushed off Rookwood.”

Geralt nodded, feeling a little like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“So what did he tell you?”   
  


“Nothing. He just--” he made a frustrated sound as all of the reasons for why he shouldn’t be continuing this with Jaskier became clear, “One of the men who attacked me was there. He didn’t want me to be seen with him by the attacker.”

“So you made out with him instead? A man who admitted to being a criminal and having a connection to a potential international crime ring?”

Geralt felt a hot flush curl up the back of his neck. He didn’t bother to respond--she already knew the answer.

“Gods, Geralt,” Yennefer said, pacing away from him to face the map for a long moment. Her sigh, when it came, felt explosive in the awkward silence. “It’s a good thing I’m here to haul your ass out of the fire. As usual.”

He looked up at her, shock evident. Geralt licked his lips and tried to speak past the lump in his throat. “You aren’t going to turn me in?”

She gave him a look that would have peeled paint if it weren’t softened by the slight curve of her lip. “And have to spend the next eight years training a new partner? I think not.”

They watched each other for a long moment. It was no secret that their relationship was complicated. They were too jaded, too mistrustful of anyone to truly blend in with the other cops. And yet, somewhere between years of watching each others’ back and begrudging signs of affection, they’d become attached. In a strange way, they had become siblings in all but blood. A bond strengthened through experiencing the darkest elements of humanity and choosing to continue working despite the toll it took on their psyche.

It wasn’t until Yennefer agreed to forgive him for all these secrets that Geralt realized how much her acceptance meant to me. The tension he’d been holding for weeks escaped him in a long breath and he suddenly felt light headed with relief and a complicated mixture of emotions. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words to express what her acceptance meant to him.

“Thank you, Yennefer,” he said quietly.

She gave him a quick look that seemed to express her own sentiments and embarrassment at this conversation. Emotions weren’t their strong point. Instead, she walked over to the map and ran her fingers over the red pins with a thoughtful sound. 

“You know...if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a shipping route,” she said.

  
**[Annoyance: 09:00]** _geralt?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is officially the longest, smuttiest chapter I've ever written. Jaskier just took the story and ran with it.
> 
> If sexual content isn't your thing, stop reading at the dotted line and you'll be fine for the next update.
> 
> Everyone else--read on, my lusty friends!

For the next fourteen hours, Yennefer and Geralt reviewed every piece of evidence he’d gathered about the robberies. They ordered more takeout and ignored Roach’s grumbling when their paperwork spread from the coffee table to expand all over the floors and walls. Calls were made to the museums and locations of other potential robberies until their map had a clear line of pins along the eastern seaboard with a thread connecting them in order of chronological importance.

Then they reached the same dead end Geralt had been staring at for weeks.

“I’m missing something…” Yennefer said with a frustrated growl. Dark circles were beginning to mar her pale skin and she’d thrown her hair back into a messy bun a few hours before in a fit of pique. Sometime after midnight, she’d snuck into his bedroom to steal a pair of sweat and a shirt that hung loosely off her lean frame and made her seem younger than she truly was. She paced back and forth in front of the map and grainy pictures recovered from the security footage. “There has to be  _ something _ . No crime is ever perfect. We just need to find the mistake.”

Geralt looked up from where he was shuffling through the contacts of the various security firms with the hope that he might find some overlap. Both of them looked exhausted and he knew they were talking in circles now.

“Go home, Yenn,” he sighed, raking his fingers through his own tangled hair, “We aren’t going to make any headway when we’re both exhausted.”

She scowled at him for a moment like she was going to argue before letting out a breath. “Fine, but I’m going to interrogate Davidson when I see him next.”

“I expected nothing less.”

Yennefer stretched and winced when her back popped in several places. She glared at the wall of information before beginning the process of cleaning up the paperwork. 

They worked easily together to reassemble the room. They’d been partners for years now and had found the same easy rhythm of an old married couple. It was comforting to know exactly where she would move next and how she thought. Their trust in one another was what made them such good partners and he was glad to finally be able to share the truth of Jaskier and the case with her. It eased a tension he hadn’t been aware he was carrying.

A few minutes later, he saw a still-thoughtful Yennefer off to a cab and padded back upstairs to his apartment.

Geralt bypassed the dishes sitting in the sink and the stacks of paperwork in favor of walking toward his bedroom. Tossing his shirt and sweats into his dirty clothes hamper, Geralt walked naked over to his bathroom and cranked up the hot water for a shower. He was still sore and stiff from the attack and he twisted in the mirror to eye the bruising and burns left behind by the tazar. 

He was going to enjoy paying them back for that particular experience.

Once the mirror was fogged and he judged the water to be at the correct temperature, Geralt stepped under the spray with a happy sigh. He reached for the shampoo and began the process of cleaning himself while his mind returned to the information he’d uncovered.

Even with Yennefer’s fresh eyes on the case, he couldn’t help but agree with her belief that they were missing something. There had to be a reason for why the robberies happened in this pattern and why no one had connected the dots. He didn’t want to assume that any police officers were in on the scam, but it wasn’t exactly unheard of for a dirty cop to look the other way. Yennefer had promised to see a few of her contacts to see if any of the stolen items had been sold, but Geralt had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t about the objects at all.

So why were these museums and galleries being targeted?

Clean again, but still unsatisfied with his lack of answers, Geralt turned off the water and padded into his bedroom to pull on a pair of shorts and collapse onto his bed. Roach was already curled up in her bed, pointedly ignoring him after he’d refused to share his food with her. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling with his hands folded behind his head.

All his concerns about the case seemed to circle back to the question that was always at the back of his mind--how did Jaskier relate to these robberies? He wasn’t so foolish as to think the thief had been at the museum by mistake. It didn’t explain why Jaskier had reacted the way he did when Geralt was attacked or at the party. Clearly, the man knew something that he wasn’t sharing with Geralt.

Frowning, Geralt reached over to pull the flip phone off the table and open the long list of missed messages. He hadn’t wanted to risk drawing Yennefer’s curiosity by answering Jaskier while she was here, but he couldn’t help the curl of guilt when he saw how many times Jaskier had texted him.

**[Annoyance: 08:31]** _ what am I going to do with you? You need to take better care of yourself _

**[Annoyance: 08:40]** _what are you doing today?_

**[Annoyance: 08:45]** _geralt?_

**One Missed Call**

**[Annoyance: 08:48]** _geralt? I’m starting to worry_

**Two Missed Calls**

**[Annoyance: 08:50]** _did I do something wrong?_

**[Annoyance: 09:00]** _geralt?_

“Shit,” Geralt cursed and pressed the button to call Jaskier. It wasn’t until the phone began to ring that he realized this was the first time he had ever initiated a phone call to the thief.

When the call went through to voicemail, Geralt pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned at it. It was odd for Jaskier to pass up a chance to speak with Geralt considering how difficult it was to catch Geralt outside of work. Jaskier’s schedule also seemed to be strange--shifting from incredibly late nights to early mornings. He considered calling again to leave a message, but tossed the phone on the bed beside him where he would feel the vibration if Jaskier called back.

Exhaustion teased at the edges of his mind and Geralt settled more heavily onto his pillows, kicking the sheets up over his legs and sprawling across the mattress. He’d splurged on the king size bed in an attempt to make up for the relatively sparse nature of his apartment. After long shifts at the precinct, all he wanted to do was sink into clean sheets and a soft mattress and forget about the world for a while. 

He reached out a hand to check the phone one last time in the hope that Jaskier had texted him back. When the screen remained empty, he huffed out a breath and threw his arm over his face, mentally disparaging his ridiculous behavior.

He’d feel better after he got some sleep.

  
  
  


The sound of a soft clink brought Geralt up out of sleep with a burst of adrenaline. 

Someone was in the apartment.

His mind went quiet and focused on where the sound came from. Roach gave a low growl somewhere to his side and he slowly reached for the gun he kept in his nightstand only to be brought up short.

“What?” he muttered when his left arm was unable to move more than a few inches. 

He tilted his head back so he could see the arm in question and nearly growled when he saw the familiar circle of metal fixed around his wrist. Someone had used his own damned handcuffs to tie him to the bed. His right hand was still free so he used it to reach up and yank uselessly against the cuff.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came a voice near his window, “you’ll only bruise yourself.”

Geralt jerked at the sound, scrambling to sit up and peer into the darkness. “Jaskier?”

A shadow near the window shifted and the light from the street outside highlighted the familiar panes of his face. The thief lounged indolently against the wall and Roach thumped her tail on the bed in lazy greeting. His hands were crossed over his chest in an almost defensive posture that didn’t match the stiff expression on your face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Geralt asked, still twitching against the handcuff, “And why did you cuff me?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched into a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I needed to be sure you didn’t try to arrest me for breaking into your apartment.”

“If I wanted to arrest you, I would have done it at the party.” He frowned at Jaskier, feeling a cold tingle of unease grow, “What’s wrong with you?”

Jaskier let out a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve been an idiot, trusting you.” He moved forward, looking restless, as he trailed a finger over the dresser, pausing at a picture of Yennefer and Geralt grinning with a laughing Ciri blowing out the candles of her birthday cake.

“You never told me you had a girlfriend,” he said in a cold voice. “She’s pretty.”

Geralt frowned, shaking his head. “Yennefer isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Whatever title you’ve given her doesn’t matter to me, but I have no interest in being a part of whatever game you’re playing.”

A hot blush curled up Geralt’s neck. “That’s not what this is! Yennefer is my partner on the force--we aren’t like that.”

Jaskier reached for one of the drawers on his dresser and pulled it open impatiently. “And yet she stores clothes in your home and sleeps in your bed.”

Geralt sat up as much as the cuff allowed, twisting his arm awkwardly in the process while the sheets pooled around his waist. He frowned at the mention of Yennefer sleeping over. She’d only napped a few times while they were working when the long hours began to wear her down. If Jaskier knew about that, it meant--

“Were you spying on us?”

The thief stiffened like an offended cat. “You didn’t answer your texts,” he grumbled, crossing his hands over his chest again, “I had to make sure they hadn’t found your home or that you weren’t in trouble again.”

A slow smile grew on Geralt’s face when he realized what this was really about.

“You’re jealous.”

Jaskier made an offended noise. “I am  _ not _ jealous.”

Geralt smirked and settled himself more comfortably against the headboard. He shifted his left hand until the metal handcuff rattled against the wood. “So you just ignored my phone call, broke into my home, accused me of leading you on, and cuffed me to the bed because you were worried for my safety?”

A new tension grew in the air between them and suddenly Geralt realized how exposed he was with only a loose pair of shorts and the sheets keeping him from Jaskier’s gaze. Dark eyes traced over the length of him as Jaskier slowly prowled forward until his knees were against the edge of the mattress. 

He tilted his head to the side, the shadows disguising his expression. “Were you hoping for something else?” he rumbled.

Something tight and hot pooled through Geralt’s veins and he shifted against the cool sheets. His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears and he licked suddenly dry lips, feeling the weight of Jaskier’s eyes on him.

This was the moment where things would change between them.

If Geralt followed the strange attraction between himself and the thief, there would be no going back. He would be putting his career and himself at risk. Whatever answers he might get through working with Jaskier could very well be ignored by his superiors because of how he found them. 

Ignoring the bond between them felt impossible though. The attraction he felt for the thief was stronger than anything he’d ever experienced. Jaskier’s voice was moonlight and hidden sins, teasing out truths that Geralt had never shared with anyone before. He ignored the grumpy moods that chased away most of the people who knew him and didn’t judge him for the physical and mental scars left behind by a life of war. Geralt had begun to crave their conversations as a way to unwind after a frustrating day and the lighthearted texts throughout the day always brought a smile to his face. 

It was like the thief had exposed a hole in his life that Geralt hadn’t even known existed.

Now he knew what it felt like to crave more. To want to reach out and touch and taste this fragile happiness before it disappeared for good. He wanted to know what it was like to be loved by Jaskier. 

He  _ wanted _ Jaskier.

So, he gathered his courage and looked up at the thief with a challenging smile. “I’ll admit, this isn’t how I pictured being handcuffed for the first time.”

Jaskier’s answering look was predatory. “Oh, my lovely officer, I’ve spent a great deal of time picturing  _ exactly _ this.” He came closer, leaning over Geralt without touching him. Geralt shivered at the sensation of warmth just out of reach, his fingers clenching in the sheets. “I’ve always had a bad habit of coveting what wasn’t mine.”

Geralt’s eyes went hooded as he watched Jaskier look at him with raw hunger. “And if I was?”

He blinked, looking a little dazed. “What?”

Gathering his courage, Geralt reached out with his free hand and dragged Jaskier forward until he was forced to climb onto the bed with his legs on either side of Geralt. He felt goosebumps spread over his skin at the sensation of Jaskier’s warm breath against his skin. Feeling a little wild, he brought Jaskier’s hands to his lips and dragged his mouth over the calloused fingers and smiled a siren’s smile up at the thief.

“I am not sleeping with Yennefer or seeing her in any romantic way,” he said bluntly, “The only person I’m interested in romantically...is you.”

There was a heartbeat of silence before Jaskier made a rough sound and shifted his hand to cradle Geralt’s head so he could bring their lips together.

*******************************************

Clever hands threaded through Geralt’s hair and pinned him in place for Jaskier’s mouth to plunder. The thief kissed him like it was all he was created to do and Geralt could do nothing but allow him to explore. Sharp teeth nipping at his bottom lip had Geralt opening eagerly beneath him to share the air between them. Jaskier swallowed Geralt’s groan as he pressed his body down the length of his, his clothes creating delicious friction against bare skin.

Geralt’s left hand tugged against the restraint tying him in place while his right rucked up Jaskier’s shirt to reveal warm skin and smooth muscles. His fingers trailed along the edge of his pants until Jaskier shifted to block them.

“Patience,” he whispered against Geralt’s lips.

Growling, Geralt arched against him restlessly. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he complained.

Jaskier chuckled and trailed his mouth down the length of Geralt’s throat to suck a dark mark against the heartbeat thundering there. An embarrassing sound left his mouth and was rewarded by Jaskier leaving a line of stinging kisses along his collarbones onto his heaving chest. Geralt let himself relax against the cuff connecting him to the bed, his eyes fluttering closed to revel in the sensation of Jaskier’s focus being solely on him.

“That’s it, love,” Jaskier purred, voice deep with want, “just lie back and let me take care of you.”

His mouth skated over the curve of Geralt’s collarbones while his hands pulled back the covers like they offended him. A hot tongue laved over a flat nipple and Geralt made a strangled noise when Jaskier returned to tease and nip the tight little bud until he was panting. Geralt shifted restlessly on the bed, trying to get friction against his rapidly hardening cock. 

Damn Jaskier for being a tease.

“Jaskier,” he gasped when the thief shifted his focus to the other side of his chest. “Jas,  _ please-- _ ”

His train of thought derailed abruptly when Jaskier ground their hips together in answer to his wordless plea. Their cocks dragged against one another through the fabric and his vision felt like it nearly whited out from the sensation. Distantly he wondered how he would survive this when everything already felt more intense than anything he’d ever experienced. His hand found an anchor in the soft curls on Jaskier’s scalp and he thrust helplessly up against him.

Jaskier abruptly leaned back until there was barely any contact between them and ignored Geralt’s whine of protest. He brushed his fingers over Geralt’s throat and chest, following the path his mouth had taken and looking at the marks with obvious satisfaction. Geralt flushed under his scrutiny, feeling laid bare and vulnerable. The thief hummed deep in his throat, eyes dark with want.

He swallowed hard, looking like he was barely hanging on to his control. “Are you sure about this, Geralt?” he asked, a thread of vulnerability in the carefully measured words. “I won’t be able to pretend this didn’t happen if you have regrets.”

Geralt sucked in a deep breath, trying to focus on something besides the way his body craved more of Jaskier’s touch. Something about the way Jaskier was holding himself so carefully at bay made something in Geralt’s chest go warm. He reached up and cupped Jaskier’s cheek, reveling in the way the thief turned shamelessly into the touch to press a kiss against his palm.

“I want this. I want you.”

Jaskier made a raw sound and reached for his shirt in a rough movement. Golden eyes went wide as the thief’s body was revealed in a flash of creamy skin highlighted by the moonlight. Lean muscles covered a trim body that was narrower than Geralt’s, but held the same promise of power in the efficient grace of each movement. The shirt went flying off somewhere for them to find in the morning and Geralt couldn’t resist the urge to map out the ripple of muscle and smooth skin exposed to his hungry eyes.

“God, I could write a million songs about the way you look right now,” Jaskier murmured, running his hands over Geralt’s abs to wrap around his waist. “Beautiful.”

Geralt flushed, unused to the praise or the hungry way Jaskier watched him. 

Jaskier leaned down, scooting backwards until he was level with Geralt’s hips and the other man was shifting helplessly at the feel of his breath against the sensitive skin of his stomach unable to move farther than the cuff allowed. It was a battle to keep from bucking his hips up when Jaskier’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband. His cock was so hard it was aching and he could hear the way he was gasping for air distantly. 

Gentle fingers brushed over the length of him through his shorts and Geralt barely restrained a whimper. It had been too long since he’d had more than his own hand to keep himself company. His nerves felt like they were on fire in the best way. Every one of his senses was focused on the sensation of Jaskier slowly dragging his shorts off his hips and exposing him fully to the thief’s hungry gaze. 

His cock twitched as Jaskier licked his lips reflexively as he took in the sight of Geralt laid out like a feast in front of him. Geralt knew he was attractive. He’d tumbled men and women with barely any effort on his part to entice them over on the rare occasion that he went out for drinks after a shift. Geralt prided himself in being in control and ensuring that his partners were always well cared for before he said goodbye and went on with his life. They were a nice release of tension. A mutually beneficial release that left them both relaxed and sated until the need returned. He was used to being desired, but this...this was something new.

  
  


Jaskier looked at him like an artist considering a masterpiece. Like a blind man witnessing a sunset for the first time. It left him feeling off balance and feeling strangely shy in the wake of the emotions building between them that he had yet to define. He found himself torn between desire for more and the fear of what would happen if he fully surrendered to it.

His indecision disappeared the moment Jaskier’s mouth pressed a gentle kiss against his hip bone, whispering against his skin, “Focus, love. Don’t wander off where I can’t follow.”

Bright blue eyes flicked up to him with a wicked smile before his tongue darted out to drag up the length of Geralt’s cock. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Geralt hissed, head snapping back against the pillow at the sensation of wet heat dragging against him.

Jaskier made a noise of agreement before lowering his mouth over the head of Geralt’s cock and taking him in deep. Every few seconds, he would pause to press a kiss to the head, teasing the sensitive skin with kitten licks that made Geralt’s thighs flex with the need to thrust. His tongue pressed flat against the underside of his length a moment before he sank down to the root, setting up an erratic rhythm that kept Geralt from being able to control his reactions. Then he began to suck.

Geralt was reduced to a twitching, gasping mess by the time Jaskier pulled his mouth off with a lewd pop and kissed along the vee of his hips. “Lube?” he asked and Geralt’s cock twitched again at the raspy sound of his voice.

Fumbling slightly, Geralt forced himself to focus long enough to reach his right hand awkwardly over to the nightstand. It forced him to contort his body oddly to avoid coming up short with the handcuff and he made an annoyed sound when it slowed his quest to retrieve the bottle he kept nearby.

“Any chance you’ll take these off?”

“Not happening,” Jaskier murmured, contentedly wrapping his hand around Geralt and setting a rhythm that made his hips stutter. “I like having you at my mercy.”

“ _ Jaskier _ ,” Geralt groaned when his fingers missed the bottle a second time because of a particularly sinful twist of his wrist then made a soft noise of triumph when he finally snagged the lube and tossed it in the thief’s direction.

He made the mistake of looking down then.

Jaskier’s eyes were blown out with only a thin line of blue edging the black of his pupils. A dark flush ran along his cheekbones and matched the color of his swollen lips, still gleaming from sucking Geralt’s soul from his dick. He gave Geralt a lazy smile and a gentle kiss on the skin of his inner thigh.

“How do you want me?”

Images of Jaskier above him, beside him, below him flickered through his mind, but all he could get out was, “I don’t care as long as you’re inside me.”

Any surprise the thief might have felt at the request was erased by a full body shudder that left Jaskier leaning his forehead against Geralt’s stomach and panting over him. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“As long as you fuck me first.”

A soft chuckle was all the warning he got before a slick finger was carefully circling the tight furl of his ass. How Jaskier managed to get the lube opened without him noticing was a question for another time. For now, all Geralt wanted to do was relish in the sensation of being slowly worked open while the thief continued to stroke guitar-calloused fingers over his cock.

Bottoming was something Geralt rarely did. Most assumed that he preferred to top and he usually didn’t bother to correct them. He enjoyed the control that came with directing an encounter. It took trust to agree to let someone else take the lead, but somehow there was no hesitation to let Jaskier’s clever mouth and hands make him ache.

Jaskier seemed to be in no rush to get inside of him, content to learn every way to make Geralt gasp and grind back against him. His fingers set up a slow rhythm designed to make him lose his mind while his other hand continued to stroke in counterpoint. The familiar burn of being stretched was lost beneath the heat of Jaskier’s sinful whispers and the heavy weight of him anchoring him to the bed.

“Damn, that’s gorgeous,” he breathed, eyes darting back and forth between Geralt’s face and his fingers, “You’re doing so well for me, love. Better than I ever imagined.”

He added a finger and Geralt gasped at the heady burn, back arching helplessly in an effort to chase the sensation. He could feel the burn of his orgasm building at the base of his spine and closed his eyes in an attempt to focus on holding it off. Then Jaskier twisted his hand just so and Geralt gave a full bodied shudder that had stars blooming behind his eyelids.

“There you are. Just let me make you feel good…”

The thief fingers found the place inside him that made his body light up like electricity in a steady pattern. It was a merciless assault that left him twisting between the touch at his prostate and the hand still wrapped around his cock. Geralt’s fragile control was overwhelmed by the desperate urge for more of the overwhelming pleasure. Jaskier’s voice was lost beneath the sound of his heavy breathing as he chased the precipice that felt inevitable and impossible all at once. His hips stuttered and his hands gripped the bed sheets until he felt like he might tear them with how tightly he was holding them.

“Please, I--” His tongue felt thick in his mouth and he gave a hoarse shout when Jaskier added another finger.

Jaskier’s voice was made of sin and desire. “Come on, then. Come for me, love.”

With a sound that was a mixture of a shout and a groan, Geralt obeyed. His body arched like a bow and clenched hard around the fingers still inside of him. The orgasm seemed to last for hours until he was left a trembling mess in the center of the bed. His limbs fell limb onto the bed and he was sure if he could have he would have purred.

His mind still felt like warm mush when he became aware enough to recognize Jaskier’s hands moving up and down his thighs and stomach in soothing strokes. The thief was humming a soft tune that felt familiar while he waited for Geralt to come down from his high. He’d managed to uncuff Geralt from the headboard while he was still dazed and kissed the fading red marks gently.

As soon as Geralt shifted and made a sound of disgust at the mess he’d left on his chest, Jaskier shifted, urging him to roll until he was on his knees with his head resting on his arms. He made a soft sound when Jaskier’s hands returned to knead at the flesh of his thighs and ass.

“You didn’t think we were done yet, did you?” Before Geralt could form a response, Jaskier’s mouth trailed down the knobs of his spine, “I intend to  _ ruin _ you for anyone else.”

The first touch of his tongue against the loosened circle of muscle has Geralt scrambling for something to hold onto. His fingers latch onto the smooth wood of his headboard while his eyes remain wide and fixed on some far off point. Jaskier’s arms wrap around Geralt’s waist to keep him still while he devoured him. His teeth and tongue worked to ruin him in the only way his fingers had not.

Overstimulated and still twitching from his first orgasm, Geralt was helpless to do anything but writhe back against the delicious assault. Sweat trailed down his face to mix with a stray tear from his tightly squeezed eyes. He could feel his cock give a valiant twitch between his legs when a finger joined his tongue to rub the bundle of nerves that shot liquid pleasure through his system.

“Fuck,” he panted, shifting helplessly, “Come  _ on _ , Jaskier.”

The thief hummed against him and Geralt shuddered so hard he would have collapsed without Jaskier’s arm bracing him. He could hear the grin in his voice when Jaskier spoke, “Tell me what you want, love. I’ll give you anything.”

“Your cock,” Geralt growled, looking back over his shoulder to glare at the other man. “You said you would fuck me.”

Jaskier’s chuckle made him shiver. “As you wish.”

The thief took his time kissing and nipping at the flesh of Geralt’s ass as he straightened. Geralt heard the sound of a zipper being undone a moment before Jaskier’s pants were dropped onto the ground by the bed and he finally felt the warmth of the man pressed against his legs. He shivered when Jaskier dragged his cock along Geralt’s crack, letting his precum ease the slide. Distantly he heard the sound of a condom being unwrapped but all he could focus was on the thick length rocking against him.

“Take a breath for me,” Jaskier crooned, “You’re so good for me.”

Geralt let the sound of Jaskier’s breathless praise wash over him in a wave of warmth. He shifted himself into a more balanced position and arched his back in a way that made the thief curse and run an appreciative hand down his back. 

Then there was a blunt pressure against him, stretching him impossibly further as Jaskier sank into him inch by inch. Geralt rested his hands on his forearms as Jaskier whispered soft words of encouragement as he continued to press forward. By the time Jaskier’s hips were fully against him, he felt impossibly full.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Jaskier said, dragging out the word as his hands clenched around Gaskier’s waist. “You feel so good.”

Geralt grunted, past words and tightened his muscles experimentally and was rewarded with an almost hurt sound from the thief.

“Keep that up and this won’t last long.”

“If you’re still planning on ruining me,” Geralt drawled a little breathlessly as the burn of being filled turned into warm pleasure, “ you better get started before I fall asleep.”

Jaskier snorted a laugh and shifted his grip until he could drag himself nearly out of Geralt, making sure he felt every inch. 

“Oh...you’re going to regret that.”

The first snap of his hips seemed to send all rational thought out of Geralt’s head. It was all he could do to keep himself pressing back against the pounding rhythm Jaskier set, pausing occasionally to roll his hips and shift his angle slightly. It wasn’t until his cock dragged along the cluster of nerves that made Geralt’s cock weep that he realized just how thoroughly Jaskier was planning his assault on his senses.

Because from that moment on, every stroke drilled into his prostate with relentless precision.

There was a sound of cracking wood and Geralt had a moment to realize he’d broken the headboard before Jaskier’s hips snapped forward and his mind felt like it was filled with white noise. He felt like his blood was boiling with white hot shards of pleasure, racing toward a peak that felt impossible so soon after coming. He sobbed when Jaskier sped up his pace and he could do nothing but brace himself and take it.

A hand wrapped around his cock and he gasped out a wordless mixture of encouragement and protest, feeling overwhelmed by all of his senses. Jaskier’s lips brushed against the sensitive skin behind his ear and breathed, “Come for me, Geralt.”

Geralt’s body tightened impossibly more as his orgasm felt like it was ripped out of him. His cock spurted weakly against his ruined sheets and he felt his mind white out with the flood of pleasure. Distantly, he heard Jaskier curse and his thrust grow erratic before wet heat flooded him and they were both gasping for air.

Jaskier pulled out, hushing Geralt when he made a soft sound of protest. For a moment, Geralt was alone in his massive bed, but before he could consider why that thought brought so much dread, the thief was back with a warm wash cloth. Once they were both cleaned, he tossed it in the direction of the bathroom and pulled the blanket stolen from his couch to pull over them both instead of the dirtied sheets.

He tugged and guided Geralt back against him until Geralt’s head was resting just above Jaskier’s still-pounding heart and he could run his fingers through the tangled strands of his silvered hairs.

Geralt fell asleep with the press of familiar lips against his brow and a smile on his lips.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm now going to attempt to stop blushing about what I've written and adds some more updates for my other stories. Hopefully it wasn't too terrible. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back on my angsty nonsense...

He opened his eyes to an empty room and his hand outstretched across cold sheets.

Just why he was so confused to wake alone slowly became clear as he took in the state of his room. His bed was a mess of dirtied sheets and a few blankets haphazardly tangled around his hips. The clock on his side table told him he’d slept several hours past his usual time, but he didn’t have a shift to cover so he didn’t worry about it. Bare skin broke out in goosebumps when he sat up and eyed the clothes scattered around the floor before slowly getting to his feet.

Geralt told himself he wasn’t disappointed when he confirmed that he was alone.

Judging by the lack of extra clothes, he’d guess the thief had left a few hours before he woke up and made his way out of his apartment. It wasn’t as if they had discussed any sort of relationship between them. Jaskier was a criminal--they could never be more than fuck buddies. Geralt wasn’t foolish enough to wish for more.

Mood turning dark at the thought, he padded naked across his bedroom and cranked on the water to his shower. He carefully did not look at the mirror until after steam fogged the surface and disguised any traces of Jaskier left on his skin.

Once the water was near boiling, he stepped inside the small stall and let the spray pound against his back. He was sore in a way that was usually pleasant and enjoyable, but now only reminded him of what a collossally stupid mistake he’d made. Grabbing the shampoo that Ciri had bought him last Christmas that smelled like vanilla and mint, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair and mentally made a list of all his stupid decisions.

**Dumbass Choices:**

  1. Continue to text a known criminal 
  2. Choose _not_ to alert his supervisors that said criminal was in contact with him
  3. Allowed a known thief into his apartment where he stored evidence from his case
  4. ~~Got fucked by~~



Cursing under his breath at the realization that Jaskier could have easily gone through all the research he and Yennefer had gathered, Geralt turned off the water with a sharp movement and yanked a towel off the rack. He stepped out, ignoring the water still dripping off him and ran the towel over his head impatiently while pacing into the living room. On his way out of the bedroom, he stopped to snatch the flip phone off his bedroom.

Somehow he knew before opening that there would be no new messages.

At first glance, it looked as though nothing had been disturbed and he had a moment to hope that maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe Jaskier truly had been interested in him for more than his job as a police officer. Maybe he’d meant what he’d said in hushed whispers as they moved against each other.

Then Geralt noticed that the markers he’d placed on his map had been shifted so the locations could be more easily read.

A wash of something cold slithered down his spine and he closed his eyes. He was an  _ idiot _ . This case had all the markings of being something nation-wide and he had ruined his chances of ever uncovering the truth by trusting a man who’d done nothing but promise to let him down since they’d met. All his hard work would be meaningless if Jaskier sold him out to anyone associated with this case.

He was jerked away from his dark thoughts by a pounding at the door and he felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. 

Geralt nearly sprinted across the room and threw open the door. “I thought you’d--” His words died in his throat when he came face to face with Yennefer’s surprised expression.

Violet eyes flicked over his face before trailing down his exposed face and lower. Geralt jerked his towel up as a hot flush bloomed on his cheeks at her slow smirk. Then she narrowed her eyes at his neck, reaching out to punch his arm. Hard.

“Hey!”

_ “You had sex!” _ she said in an accusing tone. 

Geralt flinched, instinctively pushing her away. “What? No, I didn’t!”

“Tell that to the hickey _ on your neck _ !”

They stared at each other for a beat before Geralt sniffed, retreating into the house with an air of someone deeply annoyed. He had to fight to keep from covering up the dark bruises on his neck. “Fine, I had sex--what’s it to you?”

“I thought you were into that thief,” Yennefer said as she walked in and threw her purse onto the couch. 

Geralt remained silent, using his need for clothing to avoid looking at her. He yanked a pair of sweatpants out his dresser and threw his legs into them. When he turned around, his partner was leaned against the door, violet eyes taking in the state of his bed and the carefully blank expression on his face.

“You slept with him!” she screeched with a broad grin, “Well, how was it? Did he have any fun kinks?--”

“Leave it, Yen.”

“I mean, really, Geralt, did you even  _ try _ to play hard to get?”

“Leave it  _ alone _ , Yennefer!”

Some of her merriment died when she looked at him again, finally realizing how brittle his expression was. She took a step toward him and set her hand gently on his arm. “Are you okay?” Her eyes narrowed on his neck and she looked ready to go for her gun when she asked, “Did he hurt you?”

“What?” he shook his head. The thought of Jaskier hurting him physically still impossible even knowing he’d used him to access Geralt’s evidence. “He didn’t do anything I didn’t consent to.”

Yennefer didn’t seem convinced but she backed up enough to let him pull a shirt on that helped cover the worst of the marks left behind by last night. He felt uncomfortably exposed with the knowledge of how badly he’d fucked this up now that he’d understood how he’d been played.

“Just...leave it alone,” he muttered, yanking off the sheets from his bed and shoving them into his washer. 

The sooner he erased all the evidence of last night, the sooner he could move on.

She followed him through the apartment in silence before deciding to allow him his privacy for now. He watched his partner walk over to the old coffee maker and started the machine so the apartment was filled with the familiar scent. By the time she pressed a warm cup full of dark liquid into his hands, she had apparently decided to give him his space.

“So are you ready to admit that you have the greatest partner of all time?”

Some of his dark mood lifted at the smug tone of her voice. “You found something?”

Yennefer crossed over to the stack of folders and loose papers with a triumphant grin. “I realized that there was a link in these cases after all.”

“What is it? An employee? I looked through all of the rosters they provided,” he said with a frown, feeling his interest peak.

“There isn’t an employee that worked for all of the locations,” she agreed, “but they  _ did _ all use the same security system to redesign their security after the robbery.”

“But that happened after the crime took place. You think this is all some plot to get the security firm more business?”

Yennefer grinned at him and walked into his bedroom, rifling through his closet and tossing a few clothes onto his bed. “Not sure--but I may know a way to find out!” she turned around and tossed him a pair of jeans, “You have a date.”

He let the jeans fall to the ground and stared at her. “What.”

“You heard me,” she said as she breezed past him and began to look through his bathroom cabinets, “I happen to know the guy who owns the security firm that is handling all of these cases and he is single.”

“So you date him. You’re good at that.”

“Unfortunately, he isn’t into what I have to offer if you catch my drift.” Yennefer shrugged and gave him a lecherous look. “Thankfully, he has already expressed an interest in you.”

Geralt frowned at her. “How would he know me?”

“Because you’ve already met.”

* * *

Callum Rookwood waved cheerfully at him from across the small coffee shop. “Geralt!” he called with a broad smile as Geralt walked over to the table he’d reserved out on the sunny porch. “It’s good to see you again.”

Geralt tried not to wince at the other man’s enthusiasm. Yennefer’s stern command to  _ be nice  _ was still running through his mind alongside his own excitement to finally be able to make headway into this case. They needed this to work. If he could get Callum to open up to him, he might be able to find out what was truly behind this string of robberies.

So he smiled a little and closed the distance to settle himself into the chair Callum pulled out for him.

The other man was dressed down compared to the well-tailored tuxedo from a few nights ago. A simple white button down with the sleeves rolled up paired well with the grey washed denim jeans that showed off muscular legs. He’d slid his sunglasses up to reveal eyes bright with delight as he took in Geralt’s own, simpler outfit.

For Geralt’s part, he’d nixed the low cut shirt Yennefer had dug out of the back of his closet in favor of a simple black tshirt worn soft from years of washes. It showed hints of the tattoo on his right bicep from his military days and helped with the ‘bad boy image’ Yenn said he had. He’d been forced to agree to the skinny jeans in concession to the shirt which he’d agreed to with a grumbled mutter. Mostly he figured if Callum was distracted by the way his ass looked in these jeans, maybe he wouldn’t notice the way Geralt wasn’t interested in him. At all.

He wanted to reach for the phone he’d gotten used to carrying, but forced his hands to remain on the table. Yennefer had confiscated Jaskier’s phone after the tenth time she caught Geralt looking over at it. She’d claimed to have a few leads on a way to trace where Jaskier’s phone calls were coming from and he hadn’t had the heart to protest. He needed to get past this stupid crush.

“I didn’t think you’d come when Yennefer gave me your number,” Callum said, signaling for the waitress to take their orders. “You seemed a little distracted the other night.”

“Yeah I’m sorry about that,” Geralt winced, “I don’t really like crowds.”

“I don’t blame you there--I hate those fancy galas. All they want is you to sign a check at the end of the night and not complain about the crappy catering.” Callum took a sip of water and shrugged good naturedly.

Geralt leaned forward, noticing the way Callum’s eyes dropped to track the movement. “So what do you do when you’re not signing checks?”

“I run a few of the companies I inherited from my old man, but most of the time I try to focus on what I actually care about,” he said with a depreciating smile.

“And what’s that?”

“I’ve always loved the arts--I thought I’d be a painter when I grew up. You could imagine how disappointed I was when I discovered I could never draw more than a few stick figures.”

Geralt smiled a little. “Well there’s always abstracts…”

Callum threw back his head in a laugh that was surprisingly charming, despite the situation and Geralt gave him a small smile. 

“So what do you do when you aren’t chasing down robbers?”

He looked up sharply at the odd choice of words, but tried to keep his expression neutral. “Not much. Most of the time I’m too tired to do much more than walk my dogs and sleep.”

“Is that why you’re still single?” Callum asked with a wink.

Geralt carefully did not think about the phone hidden away in Yennefer’s purse or the marks he’d hidden with the high collar of his leather jacket. Or how he could be doing to Callum exactly what Jaskier had done to him.

“Guess so…”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me in the comments. :0


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter! At long last!
> 
> I'm sorry, my loves, for how long it has been and how short this update is. I promise I still have more coming soon. This story is far from over.

Yennefer Venger was not a kind or gentle woman.

  
She had learned too early in her life just how foolish it was to trust another person and expect kindness in return. The world was full of monsters pretending to be men. They preyed on those who were soft. She would never allow herself to be their victim again--nor would she stand idly by while they hunted others.

It was why she’d become a police officer. She could assuage the part of her that felt guilty that she’d never been able to stop her father from giving out cruel words and bruising touches to herself or her mother. The rage that bristled and writhed beneath her skin could be released each time she raced after a fleeing perp or wrestled a man into cuffs. It had her looking forward to the future instead of the horrors of the past.

Meeting Geralt had been expected after being paired with so many different failed partnerships. He was just another name on a long list of people she would be disappointed by. One look at the hulking, monosyllabic cop had her convinced that Geralt was no better than any of the other idiots who didn’t trust her to do her job or were threatened by a woman who could kick their asses at any moment.

And somehow...somehow he surprised her.

Geralt went from being an unwanted presence at her side to the anchor that she relied on each time the world went dark. He never treated her like she was weak--if anything, he preferred to expect more from her than he did from the other police officers they worked with. He didn’t question her decisions and seemed to trust her to make choices that would ensure they both made it home every night. 

Long nights at the precinct studying cases became nights sprawled over one of their couches with the paperwork acting like a bridge. She stopped expecting to be disappointed, let down her walls one painful brick at a time. Watched him let her into his world without question or any of the hesitation he showed to the rest of their department. Somehow, a year later, she found herself waking up to Geralt tucking a blanket over her on the couch and was shocked to realize that she  _ loved _ Geralt. Loved and trusted him like no one in her own family ever deserved.

Seeing the expression on Geralt’s the day before when he’d been expecting his thief had made her furious. Bad enough that the thief had managed to steal her partner’s heart. Now he’d broken it. Broken the very thing she was desperate to keep safe from the horrors and agonies that came with their jobs and the fucked up world they lived in.

So  _ fuck _ Jaskier. He was going to pay for what he’d done.

Almost as if he heard her thought, the phone beside her buzzed and the screen lit up with an Unknown Caller. Gritting her teeth, Yennefer put down her tea and took a breath before flipping open the phone.

“There you are, Geralt!” A cheerful voice called with a hint of an English accent, “I was beginning to worry--”

“Didn’t seem to stop you from walking out the door, did it?” she bit out.

There was a beat of silence, then Jaskier’s cheerful voice went dark and dangerous.

“Where is he?”

“Why worry about that now?” she said, refusing to think about the way Geralt had slept at the station the last two nights to avoid returning to his apartment. “You knew exactly where he was when you used him to get access to his evidence and research.”

_ “That’s not what happened!” _

“So you didn’t fuck him, go out into his living room to rifle through his papers, and then disappear before he woke up the next morning?” 

“Christ,” Jaskier swore, “that’s what he thinks, isn’t it?”

Yennefer let the silence build between them until it was blistering. “There was no reason not to.”

She refused to feel even the slightest bit of sympathy for the way she could practically taste the guilt growing in the other man. It was much more natural to go on the attack.

“No, I’m sure you have a perfectly reasonable excuse for doing what you’ve done to one of the best men I’ve ever known. A man who, despite all the reasons he had not to, seemed to truly think the two of you had something special. Even after all the ways you used him, he answered the door the next morning hoping that you’d come back instead of me.” She paused to suck in a breath when her rage threatened to make her voice tremble.

“You hurt the best man I’ve ever known,” she seethed with deadly intent, “and I will never allow that to go unpunished. Don’t call back.” 

Turns out, slamming a flip phone closed was just as satisfying as she remembered.

* * *

Geralt scowled at his screen and tried not to think about the headache pounding behind his eyes.

He’d cross referenced and investigated the backgrounds of everyone of the employees working at the time of the robbery without any success. The initial relief of being given desk duty until his medical leave was completed had been quickly demolished under the continued disappointment of continuing to come up with nothing time and time again. He was beginning to believe that his initial hopes for solving the case had been as foolish as the hopes he’d pinned on Jaskier wanting anything more than a way out of the charges he faced.

Frown deepening, he shoved away from his desk and stalked over to the break room. One of the rookie cops scuttled out of his way with an alarmed look and Geralt tried not to think about how fearsome he must look if the newbies were back to being terrified of him after all of Yennefer’s meddling.

Thoughts still turning over the problems of his case, he almost didn’t notice Lambert until he was holding out an empty cup towards the coffee pitcher still in Geralt’s hand. He poured the other detective a cup without a word and accepted the grunt of thanks with a nod. For a long moment, they stood there, leaning against the counter with their minds on their perspective cases. 

He’d met Lambert while he was in the Academy and had somehow found himself in an odd sort of friendship. Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt had been the only veterans in that year’s class and had gathered together instinctively, uninterested in the younger, idealistic trainees. Even after going into separate departments--Lambert to VICE and Eskel to Missing Persons--they still met up once a month to shoot the shit and bemoan whatever the rookies had managed to do since the last time they’d talked.

“What’s wrong with you then?” Geralt grunted after he’d had another long drink of stale coffee, desperate for a distraction from his own troubles. “You don’t usually come to Homicide.”

Lambert’s lips went flat. “One of my best CI’s disappeared last night.”

“Tough luck.” And it was. Confidential informants were difficult to maintain at the best of times. Finding one that was worth the effort was even more unlikely. “They try to make a run for it?”

“That’s the best part--she didn’t. Erica was a recovered victim from a human trafficking ring. She was more dedicated to tracking down other rings than most cops were. She called me a few days ago, said she was onto something big, then nothing but silence. She missed our meetup and stopped answering her phone.” Lambert said and looked down at his feet to avoid showing the emotion in his expression, “They found her body this morning in her apartment.”

Geralt looked over at him, curiosity piqued. “That the suicide they put Remy on?”

“If a suicide could be done by shooting yourself in the head twice.”

He turned to face Lambert fully. “Why was it flagged as one then? I heard the call come in for it this morning.”

“That’s what I want to know.” Lambert tossed his cup into the trash and glanced over at Geralt. “They just finished the autopsy--I called in a few favors to get it done fast. You wanna check it out? I could use an extra set of eyes.”

* * *

All morgues were gloomy as shit. 

There was no real way to cover up the scent of death no matter how many plugins littered the hallway outside. It was like there was a requirement that all of them were decorated with seventies era yellowed tiles that seemed to leach the fluorescent lights and highlight the lack of windows. And one of the lights needed to be flickering.

Geralt walked through the main doors just as the light above him went off and on like a strobe light. Excellent.

Ignoring Geralt’s silent monologue, Lambert walked over to the lab tech who gestured to one of the drawers and went to retrieve the report. They pulled open the drawer to reveal the tiny body of what could only be a woman. With gentle hands, Lambert pulled back the sheet to expose the mangled remains of his CI. His face went dark with barely restrained rage and Geralt looked over at the tech as she arrived with the items recovered with the body, moving forward so his friend could have a moment alone.

The small bin seemed like a painfully small amount of materials to represent a woman’s life, but it was all they had. Just a blood stained shirt and jeans and a few scraps of paper from her pockets. 

Geralt pulled out the papers in their plastic evidence bags and frowned as he read the smudged writing.

“What is it?” Lambert asked, coming up beside him.

“A ticket stub,” he said, still looking at the small piece of paper, “to the museum I’ve been investigating.”

“No shit?” Lambert looked intrigued and gestured to see the ticket stub. “This is where Pillowgate happened?”

“Fuck. You.”

Geralt didn’t bother to acknowledge Lambert’s laughter, just stalked out of the morgue and back to his computer with his mind on what all of this could mean and why this robbery seemed to keep showing up in such unexpected places.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Geralt and Jaskier is coming soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PLOT THICKENS.

The new key to his apartment turned smoothly in the lock that gleamed too brightly for his tastes.

Just another thing he needed to get used to seeing. He shouldered open the door and heard the soft click of Roach’s nails as she walked over at the sound. Her tail wagged briefly at the sight of him and sniffed over his pants curiously. After that, her excitement at the sight of them returned to the passive aggressive treatment he was expecting after days of avoiding his apartment. Even with the dog walker and Yennefer checking in on her, Roach was still annoyed that her partner had been missing.

“I know,” he said softly, “I shouldn’t have left you on your own.”

She huffed out a breath and turned to walk back to her bed near the couch.

Resigning himself to buying extra takeout tonight to get back into her good graces, Geralt set his duffle bag from his locker at the precinct on the floor by the door and padded over to the lightswitch to turn on the fan and try to circulate some of the stale air out of the room. 

It was easy to see the evidence of Yennefer’s presence here.

Aside from the new locks on the door, he could see matching window locks on each of his exterior windows. The blanket on his couch had been exchanged for something soft and luxurious that had far too little dog hair to belong to Geralt. When he walked into his bedroom, there were fresh sheets on the bed in a crisp white and a high enough thread count to promise a soft texture. Everything smelled newly cleaned and was wiped down well enough to satisfy most crime scene investigators.

There was no sign of Jaskier left for him.

None of the faint scent of cologne and sweat that clung to the pillows after only one night together. All of the case notes and maps had been removed to Yennefer’s apartment where they could be kept safe until they decided what to do with them.  _ If _ they ever did. And only if he hadn’t ruined everything by letting in the very criminal who’d set him on this path.

Silently, Geralt laid on his bed and tried not to think of anything at all.

* * *

The next day, he went to the museum once again.

In the daylight, it was meant to be inspiring with its marble columns and pale grey stone. It stood out against the red brick buildings surrounding it in the historic district. A bright light centered around the countless treasures hidden within.

He hoped that was all it was hiding.

Lambert’s informant had died in the alleyway just a few yards away, out of the line of sight of the cameras posted on the exterior of the building. The question was--did the murderer do this by choice or by coincidence? The camera footage from the night in question might give Lambert the lead he needed to find out what had happened to his CI and would resolve the niggling suspicions that Geralt was missing something obvious that had been driving him insane.

With that in mind, Geralt kicked the bike stand of his motorcycle into place and stomped up the steps of the main entrance. Children ferried by bored looking adults milled around the brightly lit foyer and filled the space with a cacophony of voices and the occasional shout. He skirted around the main desk and hunted until he found the subtle entrance to the employee area that was guarded by a stoic looking security guard.

He flashed his badge and rattled off his request to meet with the head of security. That done, he stood a few yards away to wait out the time needed to hunt down the person responsible for such things and entertained himself by watching the people moving through the area.

A red-faced woman was looking equal parts furious and embarrassed at her child running screaming from exhibit to exhibit, almost slamming face first into a man in a wheelchair. Across from the gift store, a couple was looking through the windows and cooing over some of the prints. Geralt settled against the wall and smiled slightly at the sight of a guide dog patiently leading its handler across the space without bumping into the excited school kids nearby. It paused to accept a few sneaky pats before continuing towards the main desk.

“Geralt!”

He turned at the sound of his name, easily catching sight of a grinning Callum crossing the foyer towards him. Managing a small smile, Geralt resisted the urge to run out of sight when he saw the way Callum’s blue eyes lit up in response.  _ This _ was why Yennefer was the one who enjoyed playing the game of cat and mouse that came with seduction schemes, he thought with more than a little guilt.

“I thought that was you,” Callum continued when he was close enough to speak at a normal tone. “What are you doing here? Taking in the sights?”

Geralt barely glanced at the rows of paintings and exhibits that lined the hallways of the lower levels. “I’m here on work business.”

“Ah, I thought I recognized your tough-guy leather jacket.”

“Hmm.”

Callum tilted his head curiously, managing to make it look playful. “Was there another break in here?”

“Ah, no. No,” Geralt shook his head, “I’ve been trying to get the head of security to meet with me about looking over some of the tapes from the last few days.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Callum said cheerfully. “I can get you that.”

“You can?”

“Of course! Rookwood Industries has the security contract for this museum--that’s why I’m here actually. They always like feeling like they can chat with the CEO whenever they want.” He shrugged with good grace. “It does come with the occasional perks for my friends in the police.”

“You’d do that for me?” Geralt asked.

Callum grinned at him. “You haven’t asked for my demands.”

Geralt arched a brow, curious despite himself. He had to tread lightly with him, he knew. They were beginning to move too close to something he wasn’t ready for, even if this wasn’t related to his case. “Is this a hostage situation?”

“Possibly.” A wink. “Go to dinner with me.”

The thought of having to continue to lead Callum on so he could use him in his case felt uncomfortably close to what Jaskier had, had done to him. He knew he’d never take it far enough to leave the twisting knife that seemed permanent in Geralt’s chest, but it was far too similar to tread lightly.

Some of his hesitation must have shown on his face because Callum sobered slightly. “You don’t have to, of course. I wouldn’t force you or anything. I was just joking.”

Instantly, his guilt seemed to triple and he waved away the other man’s attempt to backtrack. “No, I uh, I didn’t think you would,” he grunted. “Dinner is fine.”

“Great! I’ll go get the tapes and meet you outside.”

Geralt nodded and hurried toward the open air outside, sucking in the muggy city air with some relief. He raked a hand through his hair and forced himself to focus on fixing his hair back into a quick bun while he settled his thoughts.

It was obvious that Callum was more than interested in pursuing Geralt. Even with his surly personality, he had had his fair share of lovers even if he avoided long term relationships. If it weren’t for the case and Yennefer’s insistence, he would never have pursued the rich socialite from the party. The fact that he was only accepting Callum’s assistance because he needed it for his job told Geralt that there was little chance of this ever continuing after. The kindest thing to do would be to end this before feelings got involved.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he almost didn’t recognize the busker outside until he was only a few steps away.

“--This isn’t a breakup, dear heart, it’s a season finale!”

That quickly, Geralt’s head snapped up and his jaw opened in surprise, heart pounding a rebellious rhythm at the sight of tousled brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Jaskier.”

The thief flinched at the surprised rasp in a lull in his song and went slightly pale when he picked Geralt out of the small crowd gathered around him. His fingers jangled the next note on his guitar and his smile looked forced when he tried to return his focus to his other audience.

“I’m sorry, lovelies,” he said with a stiff attempt at his usual charm, “I need to take a break and get some water. Thank you for listening and your support!”

For his part, Geralt remained frozen on the sidewalk, torn between fury and a painful sort of happiness. Some part of himself had wondered if Jaskier’s disappearance had less to do with wanting to use their relationship for his own gain and more to do with some sort of tragedy. 

Now he knew.

“Geralt,” Jaskier greeted, his usual personality shrouded in nerves that made him pluck nervously at the powder blue shirt he wore over a pair of ripped skinny jeans, “what a pleasant surprise.”

The nervousness was the first clue that something more was happening here.

It was possible that Jaskier was just as anxious to see him after disappearing after their night together--anyone who’d done the same could attest to that. Geralt was less convinced after the musician’s eyes darted between the cop and the museum behind him. Years of training on the force meant he had little faith in coincidences. After all, what were the odds of Jaskier playing on this particular street corner?

That quickly, the pieces slid into place. 

“I doubt that,” Geralt said without emotion, “you made it clear you had no intention of seeing me again once you got what you wanted from me.”

Jaskier winced. “I know I deserve that--that much and more--but you have to believe me when I say that I never intended to--”

“To fuck me?” An older man walked by shot them a look that Geralt returned with a snarl until he hurried to the other side of the road. “Because you made it clear that you could’ve broken into my apartment to get to my case notes at any time so I can only assume choosing to stay that night was no coincidence.”

“Please, Geralt, you have to believe me,” Jaskier begged, reaching out with an aborted movement when he met Geralt’s furious eyes, “There’s more going on than you know.”

The laugh Geralt released was jagged as razor blades. “Right, sure. Of course there is. You did this all for my benefit.” 

“I’m telling the truth! I promise, love, I--”

“Geralt!” 

They both jerked away from each other, stunned to realize they were only separated by a few inches now. Jaskier’s eyes went wide with something close to betrayal when he saw Callum heading in their direction. 

“Friend of yours?” the thief bit out.

Geralt refused to acknowledge the accusation in his eyes. “Better than some.”

The distance between the security CEO and the two of them began to shrink and the tension between them only grew. Now Jaskier looked slightly frantic at the other man’s appearance. “Geralt,” he said quickly, grabbing him by the arm before he could move away, “don’t trust him. He’s not what he seems.”

Something in his expression made Geralt’s own heart beat faster with alarm. “What do you mean?”

“Please, just--” Jaskier looked frustrated as he began to back away from him, “I know you have no reason to believe me, but you must stay away from him.”

Geralt looked over his shoulder to where Callum was walking toward him with a faintly worried expression. “What do you….” he let the question hang in the empty air where Jaskier once stood. A quick look down the street proved there was no sign of the blue shirt or bulky guitar that should have made it easy to find him.

“Hey--” Callum’s voice made him jump and whirl to face him, “--I got the tapes!” He looked over Geralt’s shoulder curiously. “Who were you talking to?”

“Ah, no one,” Geralt said quickly. When Callum looked like he wanted to ask another question, Geralt gestured toward the street with a wave of his hand, “Shall we go?”

He could worry about Jaskier’s strange warnings later.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for seeing Jaskier again? How mad would y'all be if I said Geralt was going to fall in love with Callum? (jk jk, hahaha)


	6. Chapter 6

“So do you know that performer?”

Geralt looked up from his overpriced steak sandwich and found Callum looking curious. “Hmm?” he asked, trying to buy some time.

“That man--the one outside the museum. It seemed like you knew him.”

“Oh, he’s a friend of a friend,” he finally said, dodging between the truth and a lie. “I don’t know him very well.”

That, at least, was painfully accurate.

Callum smiled charmingly. “Good thing, then--I didn’t want to find out I had any competition.”

Some of the tension at Callum’s first question eased minutely at the display of petty jealousy. If Callum was jealous, he was suspicious for completely normal reasons--not because he was worried about Geralt’s interactions with Jaskier the thief. Maybe he remembered Geralt’s preoccupation with the musician at the party and drew his own conclusions. Even that was dangerously close to the truth.

“He did look familiar though…” Callum continued thoughtfully, looking down like the answer could be found in his Cobb salad. 

“Hmm…” Geralt cast around in his mind for some way to change the subject and settled on: “I appreciate your help with the tapes. You saved me a lot of time.”

The other man brightened. “I’m always happy to help the men and women in blue. They’re a key ally in our business after all.”

“Do you do a lot of business in private security?”

“Rookwood Industries started in manufacturing surveillance items, but has shifted over to running our own security systems in recent years,” Callum answered easily. “No sense letting anyone else know the secrets of our programs, right?”

“Do you work with a lot of museums? Or just private collections?” he asked. 

“Both, really. Most private collections can’t really afford the best set ups so we have a few bigger clients. It keeps me busy going up and down the coast.”

Geralt thought of the long list of museums who had turned to Rookwood after being robbed. “Is that what you were doing at the art show? Drumming up new business?”

“Well I am a lover of art so it’s no punishment to get to support local artists—even if it means squeezing into a tux and eating bad appetizers all night.” Callum winked at him, “Plus I get to meet handsome men occasionally.”

“You’re lucky Yennefer forced me to go then—I hate that sort of thing.”

Callum reached out and ran a finger over the back of Geralt’s hand. “Yes,” he agreed, “very lucky.”

* * *

“Maybe it’s just an insurance scam.”

Geralt caught the tennis ball lobbed at him from Yennefer and tossed it back from where he was leaning back with his feet on his desk. “None of the pieces stolen were big enough to get a significant payout.”

She hummed thoughtfully and ran her fingers over the ball with a frown. “How are they picking these targets anyway? They’re spread out all along the eastern seaboard.”

“Could be a traveling group moving towards the border,” Geralt added. 

“If they were, they would have fenced something by now. That kind of gig needs a lot of cash.”

“Which means we’re back where we started.” 

And still looking for the mysterious backer that was making all this possible. 

Yennefer huffed and threw the ball at him hard enough that he had to put his feet on the ground to brace himself before he toppled over. “What about Rookwood?” She asked, “He's the closest thing we have to a connection between the cases.”

“Yeah, but Rookwood Industries only steps in  _ after _ the robbery takes place.”

“So maybe he’s trying a more direct approach to getting more business.”

“It’s not worth the risk though.” Geralt gestured to one of the stacks of paper on his desk, “Plus the background check on their finances didn’t show a need for more business. The company is in good standing and expanding steadily. Without a warrant, we can’t dig any deeper than that.”

“Has Callum said anything suspicious to you?” Her grin turned lecherous, “Or have you been too busy doing more exciting things?”

“Stop using me as a substitute for your lagging sex life, Yen.”

She gave an indignant squawk at the dig. “I’ll have you know I bag  _ plenty _ .”

He wrinkled his nose at her description. “Yes, but do you keep them?”

“Sure I do—until I get bored or they don’t please me in bed or if they’re cheap or jealous or—“

“Such high standards,” he cut in before she could get going into greater detail and returned to the original topic. “And I told you before I’m not looking for a relationship with Callum, just information.”

“Why not? He’s handsome, intelligent, and, best of all, rich.”

“Those are  _ your _ ideal traits in a man, not mine.”

Yennefer blew out an exasperated breath and stood. “Spoilsport. You’re just in a relationship with your job.”

“It does seem to fuck me over regularly.”

She laughed and stretched with a groan. “The day old coffee in the break room is calling my name. Maybe the caffeine will jumpstart my brain into understanding this nonsense.”

Geralt waves her off, and went back to the ledgers he’d collected from one of the smaller museums that had been hit. On his desk, his phone vibrated in a familiar pattern to indicate an incoming call. He reached out and pressed accept without bothering to wonder at the unfamiliar number. 

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up.”

The voice on the other end of the line was so surprising he almost did anyway out of shock. “Jaskier?” He asked before his brain caught up with his treasonous heart. “Wait, how did you get this number?”

A rough chuckle. “After all that’s happened that’s probably the least illegal thing I’ve done.”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Geralt sighed and waved off Yennefer’s question when she raised up an empty coffee mug for him. “I thought I was clear about where we stand with one another the last time we spoke.”

“Listen, I know you have no reason to, but I need you to believe me.” The sounds of traffic trickling through Jaskier’s end faded as he moved somewhere quieter. “I need you to stop investigating Rookwood. Let that dumbass take over.”

“You already told me that, but you’ve never given me a reason why.” Geralt paused and considered the warning. “And besides, how would you know what I’m investigating?”

The awkward silence was answer enough. 

“Are you  _ following _ me?”

“No! No, of course not. I just...put a bug on your work computer and phone.” The last was said in a rush that did little to halt the growl grating through his chest. 

“What.”

“You can be pissed off at me later, Geralt, when you’re safe!” The thief continued urgently. 

It made him pause long enough to force himself to focus on the information he was being given. “Why wouldn’t I be safe? I’m a fucking cop.”

“Because I wasn’t the only one watching your movements.”

“What?” He repeated, trying to figure out who else would be interested in some no name detective. 

“Someone else has been watching your progress on the robbery investigation. Someone good enough to avoid detection with the firewalls put on your department computers,” Jaskier said. “That means either someone in your unit is following you or someone outside the PD. Now, have you told anyone about your investigation?”

“Just Yennefer and a friend of mine from the Academy,” he answered around the bolt of unease growing in his gut. “I’ve been doing research on my own time.”

He looked around the room at the familiar bustle of activity in the precinct. An officer was leading a witness toward her desk for a statement while another two wrestled with a woman in handcuffs. Fisk was sitting at his desk plodding away at a report while his partner played solitaire on his phone. None of them looked even remotely interested in Geralt. 

Who would want to use surveillance on a case he wasn’t even officially assigned?

“Fuck.” The curse was enough to jostle Geralt from his thoughts and he glanced at the phone in his hands. There was a clatter on the other end and the sound of what could only be Jaskier running, judging by the sounds of heavy breathing. 

“Jaskier, where are you?” Even after everything, Geralt couldn’t deny the panic that grew at the thought that Jaskier might be telling the truth about this case. Because if Geralt was in danger, so was the thief. “What’s happening? Tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you up,” he demanded.

“No can do, love. You’re already too close to this.”

Another clatter of metal against concrete and Geralt could hear his phone creaking in his hand under his tightening grip. He stood and reached for his coat and keys to give himself an outlet for the growing fear in his veins. Yennefer caught sight of him from the break room and started toward him with a worried look. 

“Damnit, Jaskier. Tell me where you are. We can—we can figure something out.”

This time there was no mistaking the sounds of angry shouts or the iconic pop of a silenced gun. Jaskier grunted and Geralt made a wordless sound of panic at the pain hidden in the sound. “I’m sorry, Geralt. I never meant to—“

A beep and then all Geralt could hear was silence. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me begin my three part apology for this cliff hanger by saying...I'm the worst. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, we begin to get some answers--or are they just new questions?

“Geralt?”

Yennefer’s voice jerked him out of the numb fog that swept over him at the sound of the gunshot through the phone. 

He blinked and then he was moving.

“Can you trace a phone number to get a location?”

She frowned, but moved over to her computer. “What’s going on?”

Before she began to log in, he grabbed her arm to stop her with Jaskier’s warning still in his head. “Wait, don’t.” He looked around quickly and moved over to Ramirez’s desk--recently abandoned by its owner on a coffee run. 

“Why aren’t you using your computer?” Yennefer asked even as she angled herself to block him from the sightlines of most of the people in the room.

God, he loved that woman.

“Jaskier called and said someone had bugged my computer here.”

“Wait, did he finally call without hiding his number?” She looked excited at the prospect. “Little fucker is going down for this.”

“He was warning me.” Geralt’s voice was carefully even as his eyes remained fixed to the loading screen.

The pause told an entire story of frustration. “Geralt. Don’t tell me you believe him.”

He didn’t answer, just stood and grabbed his coat. “Corner of 1st and Sunset. Let’s go.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Geralt was staring at a cellphone abandoned in the center of an alley behind a Chinese restaurant. His fingers wrapped around the cracked plastic and tried not to think about the bloody fingerprint on one corner.

“Think we can salvage anything from this?” he asked to keep himself from saying something even more vulnerable.

He already knew there was little hope of getting a witness to the attack in such a remote location. A quick scan confirmed that the only camera nearby only captured a portion of the street. Experience also told her that Jaskier’s attackers would have needed a vehicle to move him out to a secondary location. 

And anyone could tell you what could happen if you were taken by a group this organized.

Yennefer arched a brow at him, but shrugged. “If the sim card is still working enough to give us a location, we can probably get something. I doubt he was stupid enough to leave anything useful though. What’s going on, Geralt?”

“He thinks someone is following our investigation. Maybe the same person attacked him.”

“He also used you to get information on the case and then pulled a disappearing act. Why do you think he didn’t do the same thing again?”

Geralt faltered, trying not to think about waking up alone and walking into his living room to see the evidence of his stupidity. Then he remembered the panic in the thief’s voice. “There were gunshots and I’m willing to bet this is blood on the phone. Why bother to call me if he was going to disappear?”

She hummed. “What else did he say?”

“Just that I needed to stay away from Rookwood.”

“Then that’s where we start,” she said decisively, “If he knows something about the case, it must have something to do with Rookwood. Let’s see if we can find a connection with the security angle.”

Without waiting for a response, his partner walked resolutely towards the entrance to the alley and the pawn shop across the street.

He jogged after her. “Where are you going?”

“Pawn shops always have extra cameras on their exterior and try to stay friendly with cops. Maybe they’ll give us the tapes for the last hour--we can run the plates of any cars that stop here.”

* * *

Returning to the station felt like a failure, but their options were limited.

Yennefer had produced a bag to put the ruined cellphone in to limit any further damage and returned it to Geralt’s tense hands. He ran a thumb over the screen absently, trying not to think about the finality in Jaskier’s voice when he’d called. The thief always had a plan of escape, always. There was no way he would allow himself to die now.

Back at the station, people moved around them in a familiar rhythm. His eyes scanned each face, searching for some sign of something dark lurking beneath their expression. If Jaskier was right, someone was willing to risk exposing themselves in a den of men and women trained to hunt criminals. It was more than just a warning of the immediate threat.

It told him that this wasn’t about robberies.

A gang of small time thieves--even organized under a well funded beneficiary--would not have the resources to infiltrate a police department. It wouldn’t be worth the risk even if they did fence all of what they’d taken so far. 

Geralt stared at the sheets of paper detailing all of the robberies he suspected were part of this group’s path of crime. Each of them in cities that had major highways running through them although they didn’t seem to be following one road specifically. They used the absence of the usual guard on the night shift to take advantage of the inexperience of the replacement. Some of the guards were missing due to simple mishaps--food poisoning, a common cold, even a twisted ankle. Only two were actually found dead after the robberies--their deaths easily explained by gambling debts or gang violence.

No reason at all for any police force to investigate further.

It wasn’t until Geralt had stumbled into the crime taking place that night that something changed in the formula. They weren’t prepared for two witnesses in the building that night as evidenced by the makeshift handcuffs they’d placed on Geralt. The decision to avoid killing him was just as easy to understand. Killing someone, especially a cop, would lead to more investigations. Investigations that might uncover the patterns Geralt had found.

Unfortunately, even with as much as he’d uncovered, he still couldn’t answer the most basic question a cop must ask. What was the motive?

“Why don’t you take the phone over to the lab techs?” Yennefer said, moving past him to their cramped desks, “I’ll start reviewing the footage we got from the pawn shop. Maybe I’ll have a few plates to look up by the time you get back.”

Geralt hesitated before meeting her eyes with an unusual amount of intensity. “Be careful, Yen.”

The meaning was clear even if he didn’t say it: Don’t trust anyone.

Yen’s expression softened slightly--something as unusual as it was beautiful--before she nodded.

He gave her one last glance before turning on his heel and moving away from the bustle of the front office towards the quieter hallways at the back of the police station. A few officers nodded to him in greeting, hands full of paperwork or boxes of evidence they’d retrieved from the storage rooms. Geralt merely grunted at them as he passed, grateful that his reputation for being a man of few words was useful in this regard. He wasn’t ready to risk his paranoia leading to more problems.

Pushing through the last door on the right, he was surprised to see the room filled with a mixture of lab techs and harried looking officers. Geralt frowned, recognizing a few faces from Vice and a few of the other departments. In the corner, he saw Eskel chatting with one of the younger lab techs named Dylan. Both men looked up with a nod at his approach.

“What’s going on?” he asked, phone safely hidden in the pocket of his jacket.

Eskel patted Dylan on the shoulder. “We’ve had a recent uptick in trafficking reports in the area. Our lab was overloaded so we’re adding to your team’s workload.”

“Trafficking? People or drugs?”

“Both, unfortunately.” The other cop sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve been working overtime for the last month trying to nail down where it’s all coming from. None of our usual assholes are owing up to it--say some new player is in town.”

“Hmm.”

Judging from the reactions of all the other officers in the room, the new activity must be pretty intense to warrant this much of a response. It was almost unheard of for a new gang or organization to move into an area so quickly. Even stranger that there hadn’t been any fighting or targeted attacks by any of the groups already established here.

Dylan piped up from where he was sitting beside Eskel. “What brings you to my neck of the woods, Geralt?”

Geralt hesitated, but decided that if Eskel had wanted to bug his phone, he would’ve done so long ago. He glanced around the room before dropping the bagged phone onto the desk. “Can you get anything off this?”

“Do I want to know what that stain is?” Dylan asked, already reaching for it despite his obvious reticence at touching blood. He pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and tapped the side of the phone to eject the SIM card. “What are you looking for exactly?”

“Names, contacts--anything I can use to locate the owner.”

Eskel looked curious. “Someone you know?”

“Just a witness in a crime I’m investigating,” Geralt hedged, “I think something must have happened to him.”

Dylan made a considering noise, eyes on the screen. “Well, I can’t tell you much--the phone is just a burner. He only had one contact, a “Cuddlebritches.” Do you need me to get the number for you? He only called him once, just about an hour ago.”

A hot blush crawled up his neck that he refused to acknowledge. “Uh, no. No, that’s alright. Is there anything else?”

“Not that I can see. Maybe if I had more time with it--”

“That’s fine, Dylan,” Geralt interrupted, “It was a long shot anyways.”

Without acknowledging the sounds of protest from Eskel, Geralt grabbed the phone off the desk along with the SIM card. He shoved them back into the bag without ceremony--he couldn’t risk someone connecting him back to Jaskier. Not when he didn’t know who was searching for him or what they’d done to the thief.

Yennefer was still busy at her desk when he made his way back to the bullpen. She glanced up at him with a distracted look before pushing over a list of names. “Can you check these against the list of employees at Rookwood?”

“Yes, but I’ll have to run home first,” Geralt said. “I took most of our research back there.”

“That’s probably best until we know if the thief’s information was correct.” He didn’t comment on her refusal to call Jaskier by his name. Her aggressive defense of him felt like a balm after the sting of waking up alone with the knowledge of all his mistakes hanging around his neck like a noose. Already, Yennefer’s attention was dragged back to her screen. “I’ll meet you there later and we can review what we’ve found.”

“Sounds good.”

She waved him off and he made his way to the door, eager to escape the noise and confusion of the precinct. Outside was pretty enough to ease some of the tension riding on his shoulders and he sucked in the fresh air greedily. The phone felt like a heavy weight in his pocket as he made his way over to the parking garage where he’d left his bike.

Normally, Geralt relished the ride back to his apartment. It was his chance to unwind and block out noisy thoughts with the familiar adrenaline that came with the roar of the engine and the wind rushing through his ears. For a few minutes, he could just allow himself to focus on the simple task of staying upright and moving smoothly in and out of traffic.

Now, the usual quiet in his mind was replaced by the memory of the fear lurking beneath Jaskier’s even voice. The way the thief had used his last moments to call Geralt and warn him of what was coming.

But he  _ still _ had no answers.

Soon he would be forced to return to the cases he’d been avoiding during his medical leave. His captain would probably have Geralt and Yennefer assisting with the extra work from Vice and the other departments looking to resolve the new influx of crime in their city. The robberies would be pushed aside to be forgotten by the officer assigned to them. 

And Jaskier’s body would no doubt be left to rot at the bottom of the nearest river, forever waiting for Geralt to understand the clues he’d left behind.

There were just too many puzzle pieces left in his mind. What connected the robberies to one another? If the objects that had been stolen weren’t the real motive, what were they really after? He rumbled to a stop outside of his building and hung his helmet on his bike’s handlebar, thoughts still churning.

He was missing something. Some piece of information that would turn this muddled landscape into a recognizable picture. Something Jaskier  _ knew _ he would eventually figure out. That meant it had to be something that they had discovered before Jaskier’s first disappearance.

_ The map. _

Jaskier had disappeared once he’d looked at the map of all the locations Geralt believed were connected to the robberies. That meant he’d seen something that spooked him enough to risk Geralt and Yennefer’s wrath by disappearing.

Geralt hummed, turning over each location in his mind. They were all close to major highways. All the stolen items hadn’t been fenced in order to avoid creating a paper trail. The thieves had gone to great lengths to make sure the police didn’t have a reason to look at the museums for longer than necessary. Why?

Like a thunderbolt, an idea sparked in his mind.

Lambert’s Confidential Informant had disappeared just outside of the museum. The same museum that switched over to Rookwood Industries for their security system immediately afterwards. And yet somehow, the tapes they’d recovered from the museum’s cameras had failed to capture anything of value. Almost as if someone had tampered with them.

Quickly, Geralt pulled out his cellphone and hit the first number on his favorites. He didn’t even wait for Yennefer to get out more than “Hel--” before he was speaking.

“Yen, I need you to look up the crime reports in the cities where the robberies took place that we found. See if they’re having the same influx of trafficking in the area. I think--”

“Geralt?”

The voice was so unexpected that he nearly dropped his phone with how quickly he spun around to see Callum standing a few feet away with a curious expression. Hastily, Geralt turned off the faint sound of Yennefer’s voice through the phone and pressed End Call. “Callum,” he said awkwardly, “what are you doing here?”

“I just came by to see if you were hungry.” Callum gestured to the bag of Chinese food he was carrying in one hand, “I can come back another time though if you’re busy?”

Some of Geralt’s tension eased at the easy explanation. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions. Maybe Callum wasn’t involved at all. All he had was circumstantial evidence and a hunch that Rookwood was somehow connected to everything.

“Um, sure. You caught me just as I was getting in. I need to let Roach out first though.”

Callum followed him up through the front entrance, looking around curiously. “I just love old buildings like this.”

“Hmm.”

“Such a shame that they’re so difficult to install security in. There’s just too much drilling and construction required before you can even get the simplest setup going,” he continued, unbothered by Geralt’s distracted mood, “Most of them don’t do more than a closed circuit camera in their back entrances and hope someone else has an eye on the street out front.”

Geralt didn’t bother to answer as he shuffled for his keys in his pocket to unlock the front door.

He didn’t even hear Callum’s footsteps coming closer until he was right behind him. “I really am sorry about this, you know…”

There was a sting at the back of his neck and then everything went black.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really proud of how this plot is turning out. Mysteries aren't usually my strong suit, but I hope it's starting to get exciting for all of you. 
> 
> Let me know your theories in the comments!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's confirm that angst tag real quick.

Geralt woke up slowly like he had to claw his way to consciousness.

Each layer brought in new layers of discomfort. First was his head, throbbing in time with his heart. Next was the ache in his shoulder, bent in an unnatural angle. His mouth was dry and tasted like chemicals. There was a familiar soreness that was similar to the sensations left behind after a long training at the gym or ring with Yennefer.

He sucked in a slow breath, focusing on keeping steady as he thought through each new piece of information.

Sound outside was muffled aside from the occasional rumble of a passing train car. He tried to think about anywhere near the subway lines where he could have been taken, but there were miles and miles of empty warehouses and buildings that would be ideal for storing unwilling guests. The air smelled damp enough that he guessed they were near the river. There was no chatter or rumble of any passing crowds which didn’t bode well for his chances of attracting attention for possible escape.

Geralt opened his eyes and released a controlled breath, trying to ignore the urge to fall into panic. He knew the statistics for victims of kidnapping. After the first 48 hours, his chances of being found alive lowered dramatically. The fact that the abduction happened with someone Geralt could recognize and identify made it even less likely that he would survive this. That they kept him alive and relatively unharmed after taking him meant they needed something from him--and he doubted they would be asking nicely.

In short, he needed to get out of this building as quickly as possible. 

The room he was in was little more than concrete flooring and unfinished walls. A cynical part of him said they put him in a room without sheetrock meant they were preparing to handle blood splatter. They’d cuffed him to a metal chair that had been bolted to the floor and he glanced up to find a hook attached to heavy chains from the ceiling. He supposed he should be grateful that he hadn’t woken up hanging from  _ that _ .

He glanced around carefully for any sign of cameras recording him, but didn’t notice anything out of place. It was probably a good thing that they weren’t that prepared for a prisoner. Of course, it could mean that they intended to kill him quickly.

Without an immediate threat, Geralt was left thinking back to how he got here. 

Fuck, Jaskier was right about Callum. It wasn’t as though Geralt hadn’t been suspicious of the man, but after so many moments together where the man hadn’t seemed like a real threat, he’d let his guard down. He’d gotten so caught up in finding some kind of connection between the locations that had been robbed and finding Jaskier that he’d stopped watching Callum for some sign of evil intentions. If he was honest, he hadn’t really believed Callum was capable of overpowering him if they were in a physical fight.

Now, his mind worked to tie off all the loose strings he’d gathered over the last few weeks. 

Rookwood Industries or their sister corporations had benefited from every one of the robberies as new contracts for their security systems. The idea that the robberies might have been planned in order to boost their business didn’t make sense considering how much jail time they risked if they were caught. Plus there was no guarantee that the collections would choose Rookwood for their security after pieces in their collections were taken.

His investigation into the company’s finances confirmed that they were stable enough to not need the extra income that much. That same income made them a more likely culprit for the bug Jaskier claimed had been placed on his phone and work computer. Callum had the money to use bribery to get him an in at the police department and even ensure that a disinterested or overworked officer was assigned to the case. Geralt presented a wrench in that plan.

There was also still the issue about the line of robberies up the coastline that followed the major highways. It was the map of all the suspected locations that had been enough to send Jaskier running after their night together and Geralt couldn’t pretend that wasn’t relevant.

The thief created more questions than he did answers. Jaskier had been warning Geralt away from Callum from the beginning and now Geralt wasn’t convinced that his presence at the gala had been a mistake either. Had Jaskier known about the thieving ring before the night in the museum? Or was he just investigating his own competitors? If that was the case, why hadn’t he just turned over his information to Geralt and let the police sort it out?

Geralt growled in frustration and carefully twisted his wrists against the metal cuffs pinning them behind his back. They were tight enough to keep him from any useful leverage or wiggle room. It was obvious that they were being especially careful to keep him contained until they were finished with him.

As if in answer to the thought, he looked up in time to see the door open and Callum step through.

Any belief that he might be able to escape this scenario alive died as soon as he saw that none of the men following Callum had bothered with masks. Without masks, there was too much of a risk that he would be able to recognize members of their organization if he was released. They would need to get rid of all witnesses.

“Geralt,” Callum greeted cheerfully, “I’m glad to see you’re awake at last. Are you comfortable?”

“I doubt that matters.”

The other man had the gall to laugh at Geralt’s irritable statement. “True enough, but it’s best that you accept that you’ll be there for some time.”

“If you’re expecting to get something from me, you should accept that you’ll walk away disappointed,” Geralt snarked back.

“I suppose I could always ask your partner instead.”

The thought of Callum sending his men after Yennefer made his stomach go cold, but he was careful not to let it show on his face. Instead, he forced himself to laugh. “If you think Yennefer would fall for your innocent act, you might as well turn yourself in now.”

“I could also just shoot her in the head as she walks to her car tonight,” Callum said, all of the genial attitude disappearing beneath cruel intent. “That would take care of the question of finding out just how much you’ve told her about your investigation.”

Geralt forced himself to breathe through the panic those words created. The thought of something happening to Yennefer after all they’d been through made him want to vomit. Being trapped here knowing that at any moment they could go after his partner was horrifying. They could kill her and Geralt wouldn’t be able to do anything but sit here in this fucking chair.

Yennefer was at the precinct, he reminded himself like a mantra. She was surrounded by cops along with Eskel and Lambert. If she suspected something was off about their last phone call, she’d know to go looking for Callum first. When Geralt came up missing, she would stop at nothing to bring him back.

“You’re smarter than this, Callum,” he tried, “You know hunting cops will just paint a target on your back. You should run while you still have a chance.”

Callum prowled forward until Geralt was forced to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact. He refused to flinch when the man reached out to run a finger over his cheekbone. “I really wish you hadn’t kept so many secrets, Geralt. This could have ended so differently.”

“You’re hardly in a position to claim I keep secrets.”

The soft touch of his finger became pointed until Geralt’s face was forced back until his neck was painfully exposed and he could feel his skin split when Callum’s nail dug in deeper. “This will be so much easier for you if you tell me the truth now, Geralt.”

“What could you possibly want from me? You already bugged my computer--you know what I know.”

Geralt’s theories on who had bugged his computer was confirmed when Callum waved off his statement with a dismissive hand, releasing Geralt’s face. “All that confirmed was that you didn’t trust your partner or your precinct with the information you were gathering,” he said. “I’m more concerned with who you spoke with about your research.”

He kept his mouth shut, refusing to implicate anyone he cared about.

“ _ Did _ you tell anyone about what you were investigating?”

“No.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

When he remained silent, Callum reached out almost casually to backhand Geralt hard enough to sling his head to the side.

Geralt shook his head roughly, shaking off the sting of the hit. He’d been struck more than once in his time in the military and in training, but this was his first time being unable to hit back. His cheek burned, but he’d been careful not to bite into his cheek in the instant before he saw the blow coming. Curling his lip into a sneer, Geralt slowly returned his head to where it had been before the blow.

“Bring him in,” Callum called to the two thugs lurking near the door who nodded and disappeared.

The sound of a struggle in the hallway outside made Geralt frown and look up in time to see the two men return dragging a third between them. The man’s clothing were ripped and bloodstained from the injuries that had left his face swollen and bloody. They frogmarched him over to the chain and hook hanging from the ceiling a few feet away and hooked the cuffs around his wrists to it, forcing him into a standing position with his arms above his head. Even with the layer of grime, Geralt had no problem recognizing the face when it lifted to glare balefully at Callum before looking at Geralt.

Jaskier.

They stared at each other for a shocked moment. Geralt ran his eyes over the thief hungrily, checking each of the injuries and trying to decide between relief and rage that Jaskier had been taken by Callum. He sucked in a slow breath before desperately trying to school his face into nonchalance.

It didn’t work.

Callum’s smile had turned predatory and his eyes flicked over to where Jaskier was hanging with growing understanding. “Jaskier, you didn’t tell me you knew Geralt.”

Jaskier’s voice was rough like he’d been screaming for hours and the thought made Geralt want to rip Callum into fucking pieces. “I don’t know him.”

“Really?” Callum crossed over to one of his thugs who offered him a knife when he beckoned with his hand. Before Geralt could say anything, he walked over to Geralt with the knife held in one hand. “Then you won’t mind if I gut him now?”

The knife came down in a graceful arc--

_ “No!”  _ Jaskier screamed.

\--and halted right above Geralt’s tense thigh.

Callum tilted his head to grin back at Jaskier. “I warned you what would happen if you lied to me, didn’t I?”

Then he stabbed the blade into the meat of Geralt’s thigh.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get really, really dark.
> 
> Come yell at me in the comments about what you think should happen. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bitch to write. I had to make sure all the little breadcrumbs I left for you guys throughout the stories would finally begin to make sense. Hopefully it works well, but I'm nervous to see what you think.

Pain blazed like wildfire from his thigh and Geralt had to grit his teeth to cage the scream that threatened to escape.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears and nearly drowned out the vicious threats and curses spilling from Jaskier’s lips. The thief sounded more and more frantic the longer Callum stood over him. Blood carved a warm line down his thigh and wet the fabric of his jeans in a dark stain. Ignoring Callum’s pleased smile above him, Geralt forced himself to breathe deep, releasing it in a controlled burst. It didn’t help ease the pain, but it would at least keep him from hyperventilating and giving the bastard another reason to fuck with him.

“Strip him.” 

Geralt blinked at the abrupt command from the other man and flinched when two of Callum’s men moved forward. He’d been so focused on the knife in his leg that he hadn’t even noticed the men circling him. With the cuffs pinning his arms in place, there was little he could do but snarl at them as they cut through his shirt and left him bare in the cool air of the room. He was grateful they left him his pants at least since it meant his throbbing leg wouldn’t be injured further.

Callum’s heavy gaze made him want to cringe away, but there was nowhere else to go. He wondered how long it would be before they strip him of the last of his dignity.

“I apologize for the rudeness,” he murmured without sounding sorry at all, “We just needed to be sure that you weren’t wearing a wire.”

“You kidnapped me from my fucking house. Why would I be wearing a wire?” Geralt rasped.

“Maybe I wanted to see what I was missing.” The smirk was back and Geralt marveled at the idea of ever believing this man was anything but a scumbag. “I am disappointed that we have to cut our relationship short.”

“I’m not. And we weren’t  _ in _ a relationship.”

He  _ refused _ to think about why it was so important to make that clear. Jaskier looked gutted with every word and glared down at the ground when Geralt risked looking over at him.

“No, I guess we weren’t. You were just trying to get information out of me, weren’t you?” Callum said, “That makes this part a little easier.”

Geralt steeled himself for the pain that was promised in those dark eyes. “You aren’t this stupid, Callum,” he tried, “You know what will happen to you for kidnapping a cop.”

“Bold of you to assume anyone would even suspect me.”

He didn’t want to think about what he might do if he suspected Yennefer of knowing all that she did. For now, their survival hinged on his partner figuring out where Geralt was and who had taken him.

“I was able to narrow down the suspects to you within a few days. It will take even less once the precinct reviews my case notes for who might have had a grudge against me.”

“Oh you mean the notes you left on your work computer?” Callum waved a dismissive hand. “My contact at the precinct has already erased those.”

Geralt growled at the idea of one of his coworkers being dirty. “Is that how you knew I was onto you?” he asked. The longer Callum talked the better Geralt’s odds were of avoiding more injuries.

“Of course! It wasn’t hard to find someone who wouldn’t be suspicious if they were seen around your computer and owed enough money in student loans to make the risk worth it.”

“Who…” Geralt paused as the image of the young, bright eyed kid who’d recognized him with Eskel. “The labtech. Dylan.”

Without his permission, his eyes darted away from Callum to where Jaskier was hanging painfully from the ceiling and felt fear sink like a stone in his gut. If Dylan was working for Callum, he might be able to connect the two of them from the cellphone Geralt had asked him to trace. He could have been the reason Callum dragged Geralt here in the first place. Where Geralt might be able to threaten retribution from the force if he was killed, a thief would not receive the same uproar.

“Ah yes,” Callum agreed. Geralt’s attempt to school his expression was woefully inadequate if the calculating look in the other man’s eyes were any indication. “Such a talented young man. He did bring quite a few interesting facts to light.”

A little desperately, Geralt tried to drag the man’s attention back to him. “If you wanted money to bribe someone in the station, you’d think you would have chosen more expensive targets to rob.”

“You think this is about a few trinkets?”

Any triumph Geralt might have felt at Callum confirming that he was the man behind the string of robberies was banished by the incredulous laughter the other man spewed out. Callum doubled over, clutching his sides as he continued to laugh until even his stoic guards smirked. 

“Clearly, I overestimated your intelligence,” Callum sneered. “I thought by now you would have figured out what this was really about.”

“What? Insurance money?” Geralt offered, trying to ignore the building sensation of being truly lost.

“The robberies are just a way to get my foot in the door.”

Geralt eyed him, wondering just how much he could get him to reveal. “So then what were you really after? The security contract?”

“The security contract is only the first step in a much more complex scheme. To get our foot in the door, so to speak.”

What could be worth that risk? Geralt thought, still confused. He’d expected some insurance scam or a shortsighted attempt to bolster his company’s sales.

His expression must have conveyed his thoughts because Callum smiled again. “Have you not noticed any of the new activity around town?”

That quickly the fracture theories and information churning in Geralt’s mind clicked into place with jarring clarity.

Lambert’s missing CI disappearing outside the museum after claiming to have new information on a trafficking ring.

The long line of robberies leading up the coast through major port cities.

Rumors of a new player in the game upsetting the power structure of the gangs who’d made their home in the city.

Eskel and the rest of VICE struggling to respond to an influx of new cases.

“You’re a smuggler,” Geralt breathed.

Callum beamed at him. “Give the man a prize.”

He frowned, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to wrap his head around this. “You’re using the museums as bases of operations?”

“No one ever really pays attention to activity around museums, do they?” Callum murmured, “They would never question a few extra employees wandering around if they have a keycard that gets them through security. Even better--no one ever thinks twice about a group of children going in or out of the building throughout the day.”

The thought of what he was so casually describing made rage and horror roil in his gut. They were shuttling children,  _ children _ , in and out of these museums to whatever sick fucks might want them along with their drug shipments. He glanced over and saw a matching expression of fury in Jaskier’s eyes that helped soothe some of the ache building in him. At least he could be sure the thief wasn’t a part of this horrific scheme.

All that he could afford to focus on now was giving justice to Callum’s victims. Finding them before even worse happened to them. Keeping them safe.

To do that, he needed to survive long enough to make sure the police had what they needed to arrest him.

“You’re smuggling children?”

“Children. Drugs. I’ve even helped a few wealthy felons make their way out of the country when the price was right.”

“That’s why you had your men rob the place--you needed them to sign up for your security systems. Systems that you and your people could override when you needed to pick up or drop off your fucking  _ merchandise _ .”

All of the questions that had been haunting him for weeks suddenly seemed to have painfully obvious answers. He’d already suspected the thieves had a rich financier--now he could also say why none of the stolen objects had ever been sold on the black market. Why bother when the real money came in afterward?

A shrug. “How could anyone resist a bargain? Especially after being victims of such a crime.”

“The police are already connecting the dots between the museum and the increase in trafficking in the city,” Geralt blustered. “It won’t be long before they uncover everything I did and your plans will be exposed.”

Callum shrugged. “Circumstantial evidence at best. No judge would ever risk issuing a warrant against someone like me unless it was an absolutely infallible case. Which even you know it isn’t.”

“It will still be enough to make it difficult to continue your schemes. They’ll be waiting for you to make a mistake.”

_ Yennefer _ would be waiting for him to make a mistake.

“Which is why Callum Rookwood will be touring his holdings in Europe for a few months. That will be more than enough time to ensure my lawyers rip through whatever meager accusations your department might attempt. We’ll bury them in defamation lawsuits and appeals.”

Each word felt like a twist of the knife. The worst part was knowing from experience how many rich people escaped justice exactly like he was describing.

“So why are you still here?” he asked dully.

Slowly, Callum prowled across the distance between them to lean over Geralt with a grim smile. “To tie off all my loose ends.”

Any hope that Geralt would survive the night flickered and died.

“Leave him alone!” Jaskier snarled. The chains around his wrists clanked and rattled as the thief fought against his bonds. “He isn’t a part of this.”

Callum gave Geralt a look that made his stomach go cold before looking over at Jaskier. “You know each other?”

“I’ve never even seen him before,” Jaskier lied with a challenging tilt of his chin.

“Then why was he the last person you called in your final moments of freedom?” Callum challenged, looking all too sure of the answer.

Geralt closed his eyes against the raw panic in the thief’s eyes.

“I...was just trying to avoid getting snatched by your thugs.” The hesitation was barely there, but it was enough to seal their fates.

Callum turned until he was facing Jaskier’s battered body. 

“I don’t believe you.”

Jaskier scowled at him, looking fierce and recklessly brave enough that Geralt wanted to cradle him close to keep him safe. 

“You see,” Callum continued as though he’d answered, “you’re the only aspect of this that I can’t figure out. You keep showing up where I least expect you like a bad penny.” He raised his fingers as he began to list, “First, you stumbled into the museum on the night of our robbery and managed to slip away before the police could arrest you in the aftermath. I might have dismissed it as a coincidence if you hadn’t also appeared at the gala to serenade us all.”

He directed a lazy smirk at Geralt. “I might not have even recognized you if it weren’t for how viscerally our friend here reacted.”

Geralt flinched at the implication. Would Jaskier have been safe if Geralt had ignored him that night? Would Geralt have ever uncovered the lines of blood splattered highways created by Callum’s men?

“Then it was like I saw you everywhere--outside of the museum when I went to meet Geralt, skulking around our buildings after dark, following me to each of my meetings.” Jaskier’s jaw clenched, but he remained stubbornly silent as Callum built his coffin around him. “The only thing I don’t know is why.”

“I’m not telling you anything.” There was steel in each word.

Callum considered him, thoughtful. “No. And you probably never would, would you? My men have already worked you over long enough that we risk losing our window to make our flight out of the country.”

Jaskier looked almost smug until he continued--

“But you’ve made a mistake.”

“Oh?” the thief challenged, “I thought you were just admitting defeat?”

Callum ignored him to circle back towards Geralt. “Some men can handle their own pain without ever missing a beat,” he murmured thoughtfully, “I wonder how long you’ll hold out after I begin cutting your precious little cop into pieces?”

_ “No!” _

Chains rattled as Jaskier threw himself forward, but Callum ignored him in favor of smiling over at his men. “Avoid the face--it would be a shame to ruin his best feature.”

_ “Geralt!” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever been this anxious about an update. Thoughts?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's probably typos but I am mentally and physically exhausted so it's the best I got. Hopefully the angst is still strong.

Geralt’s world redrew itself into lines of pain that ricocheted like lightning bolts from the blows that resonated like thunder.

They began with his torso with deliberate hits that were enough to send his breath wheezing from his lungs, but not enough to allow him to slip into the relative peace of unconsciousness. The taller of the two men carried the blank, impersonal air of someone who was used to this sort of work. He knew where to strike to bring pain sparking to the surface like it was his job. The smaller, marked by a scar that bisected his mouth to form a cruel smile, relished in each bitten off sound of pain that escaped Geralt’s gritted teeth.

It was the scarred one who leaned forward to almost casually press his thumb against the wound in Geralt’s thigh until black spots danced at the edges of his vision and he almost missed Callum’s question.

“Who are you?”

He blinked past greying shadows and watched the man lean in close to where Jaskier was hanging, eyes near feral as he watched Geralt wheeze. The thief jerked, but couldn’t avoid the deceptively gentle finger that brushed across his jaw. “Santa Claus,” he growled.

Callum sighed, shaking his head like he was a disappointed parent. All it took was a wave of his hand and the blows began again.

Distantly, Geralt heard Jaskier shouting something, but it was barely audible over the pounding of his blood in his ear and the dull thud of fists meeting flesh. Something snapped in his chest and he couldn’t smother the howl of pain when his side seemed to burn with white hot agony.

The blows paused once again and he let his head fall forward limply, dragging in greedy gulps of air when his lungs didn’t seem to want to fill. The scarred man reached out and yanked his head up by his hair, forcing him to watch as Callum continued to try to get answers out of Jaskier.

“You’re colder than I expected,” Callum murmured with his eyes on Geralt’s miserable form, “I didn’t think you’d be so callous toward your friend.”

Jaskier’s eyes were a mixture of blazing fury and raw despair, but his voice remained even. “I told you, I barely know him.”

He wished the words felt more like a lie.

He was tired, so tired of feeling like his every emotion was tied to a man who had bested him at every turn. It had become almost impossible to unravel the truth hidden in the soft touches that came behind each failed capture and new question. It was obvious that Geralt was just a pawn--manipulated between a thief and a monster.

It didn’t make it easier.

Callum made a tsking sound before gesturing to the other men closing in on Geralt. “Let’s see how long Geralt will pay the price for your stubbornness.”

* * *

“Who are you?”

“No one.”

* * *

“Who sent you to investigate us?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

* * *

Through each new wave of agony, those damned blue eyes remained fixed on Geralt like he meant more than everything he was dying for.

It didn’t change the fact that he was dying.

* * *

“...ralt. Geralt,  _ please _ .”

The sound of someone calling his name with a note of desperation dragged Geralt up from the fuzzy depths where he’d retreated some time ago. It was a marker of just how far he’d gone that he was uncertain of how much time had passed. Part of him didn’t see the need to bother with something as useless as time. The only way his pain would stop was when he slipped into the darkness for good.

Still, he couldn’t seem to resist the voice calling to him so plaintively.

It took him two tries before he managed to get his eyes to remain open. His skull felt like it was stuffed with cotton and black spots danced in his vision until he blinked them away. The pain was distant now and he ignored the part of him that knew that was a bad sign. His vision tilted dangerously like a ship at sea, tunneling in and out in a dizzying sweep.

When he lifted his head, Jaskier was staring back.

There was bruising along the thief’s jaw and blood dripping from his nose that hadn’t been there the last time Geralt had been conscious enough to look up at him. He was stretched as far as he could in his cuffs in order to lean close to where Geralt was still tied to his chair. 

“I thought…” the thief’s voice cracked painfully and petered off.

They both knew exactly what he thought.

He licked his cracked lips and tasted blood. “Where?” he rasped.

“They left to go get food,” Jaskier said when it became clear that Geralt wouldn’t be able to say more, “It hasn’t been long.”

“Callum?”   
  


“He left about an hour ago. Said he has to take care of some things before he leaves for Europe.”

Geralt nodded stiffly, shifting his aching shoulders in a failed attempt to get more comfortable. The movement made the slice across his forearm reopen and blood drip down to make his hands slick with it. It took him a moment to realize why that might be important.

“--didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to try to make a grab for you. This is all my fault.”

Ignoring Jaskier’s rambling, Geralt shifted again and ignored the burn of discomfort when he twisted his wrists carefully. The movement drew the cuffs around his wrists tight, but it was a necessary pain.

When he was younger and newly partnered with Yennefer, they’d gone through a period of extended challenges to each other’s skills. They’d reveled in tricking one another into letting their guard down enough that they wouldn’t notice the handcuffs until they were snapping closed. The competition had been forced to halt after Geralt had been locked to the radiator in the precinct bathroom for six hours before Eskel took pity on him and uncuffed him. After that, Geralt had made a point of learning exactly what it took to get out of a pair of cuffs.

Without a key, his options were limited, but the blood around his wrists would have to do for lubricant. Jaskier’s voice remained a pleasant metronome in his ear as he began to twist and contort his wrists and hands with continuous pressure. A soft hiss escaped his lips as the injuries to his ribs flared painfully and made breathing difficult.

“Geralt?”

He grunted with wheezing triumph when the pressure abruptly loosened and he felt his arms drift back to a more natural position. 

Jaskier stared at him with wide eyes. “Just when I thought I couldn’t be more attracted to you…”

Ignoring the thief in favor of focusing on the seemingly insurmountable task ahead of him, Geralt took a deep breath and tried to get to his feet. 

The action made the blood roar in his ears and he stumbled, unsteady. Each breath in rattled uncomfortably in his chest and was liquid enough that he could anticipate the extent of the damage. Broken ribs. Possible perforated lung. Just one of those was enough to ensure he should be doing anything but trying to walk even if he didnt think about the knife wound in his leg or the countless other injuries.

He made it one step before his leg collapsed under him and he fell to the floor in a boneless heap.

He came too an indeterminate time late to Jaskier’s frantic voice above him. “Geralt? Please, love, I need to hear your voice. You’ve got to be okay.”

Geralt rested his head against the cool floor and managed a weak grunt. His body was trembling with weakness, but the pain had disappeared behind a lingering numbness that spread along his joints. He coughed and ignored the blood splatter on the ground. He could collapse for good later, right now he needed to get to Jaskier.

His mind narrowed into a series of its simplest commands. Arms, he thought woodenly as he forced them under him so he could lift himself up and begin to crawl. The motion made his legs burn like fire, but he knew he wouldn’t survive another fall. Move. You have to move.

It felt like miles rested between them, but he knew it was only a few yards. Still, he was sweating and gasping for air by the time he felt Jaskier’s foot under his hand. The thief was speaking above him, an endless stream of soothing nonsense, and he let it fill in the gaps left behind by the pain.

He was forced to practically crawl up Jaskier’s body to reach the chains above his head. The extra weight had to have hurt when it pulled against his arms, but Jaskier never complained. His breath remained warm against the skin of Geralt’s neck as he reached up, up, up to the latch keeping him in place. The thief leaned forward to press silent praise into the skin above his bruised collarbone and Geralt let it pour into him like liquid strength.

He had to do this.

Jaskier  _ needed _ him.

He couldn’t let Jaskier die here.

The words were like a mantra as his fingers fumbled wetly against the d-link keeping Jaskier connected to the hook above his head. A promise when he felt Jaskier murmur again and again into Geralt’s ear. A hope when the metal finally gave and he felt the chains finally go loose enough that Jaskier could pull himself the rest of the way out.

Strong hands braced him when his legs went weak a heartbeat later. What little adrenaline his body had produced was long gone now, leaving only the spotty darkness and throbbing pain behind. 

He let himself linger in the comfort of feeling Jaskier’s arms wrap around him after being so scared that the thief in the hours after their last phone call as they slowly sank to the floor. There wasn’t enough left in him to think about all the things unsaid now. It wouldn’t be long before that hurt became meaningless. Geralt let his face rest in the curve of Jaskier’s throat for another moment before he summoned the last of his strength and pushed him away.

“Go.”

Jaskier crouched painfully next to Geralt, hands outstretched. “Not without you.”

He shook his head, vision tunneling dangerously. “I’m not walking anywhere. You can barely keep yourself up as it is. You have to go alone.”

“Geralt,” the thief said incredulously, “I’m not about to just leave you--”

“The only way we can stop Callum is if you do.” It was an effort to form words now and he could hear the way his breath was whistling in his chest. “Go to the precinct and find Yennefer. She’ll listen to you.”

“They’re going to come back here and realize I’m gone. They’ll, they’ll  _ kill _ you.”

Geralt let his eyes close for a breath, trying to memorize the sound of Jaskier’s concern and the worry in his eyes. There were so many things he’d wanted to say, but they didn’t have time.

“All that matters is making sure Callum is stopped.”

Something close to devastation crossed the thief’s face and Geralt watched him clench his jaw, eyes darting around the room like he could find some solution to their problems. His hesitation made it easier for Geralt to find the strength to reach a shaking hand out to cup Jaskier’s face and trace his thumb across his bruised cheek.

“Go, Jaskier,” he whispered. “Make sure he pays.”

Blue eyes met his for a moment that seemed to tremble with tension. Slowly he nodded. Then again like he was convincing himself too.

Strong hands cupped Geralt’s bruised face and the thief leaned forward to press his forehead against Geralt’s. “I  _ will _ come back, Geralt,” he swore.

Geralt closed his eyes, trying to fight against the knowledge that it would be too late by the time he managed to get the backup he needed to take out Callum’s men. He let himself sink into the comfort he might feel if it wasn’t tempered by bitter reality.

“I’m coming back,” Jaskier repeated again and Geralt forced himself not to follow his warmth when he backed away. “I swear I’m coming back.”

Geralt listened to the door open and close and tried not to think about the last time Jaskier had promised the same thing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't help hurting these boys.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any spelling errors--I wrote this while in the car driving back from a family get together.

Geralt let himself drift. 

A dozen of his old drill instructors would have chewed his ass out for giving up. They would have shouted that wars are won by those who don’t stop in the midst of unimaginable difficulties. They’d tell him to keep pushing through the pain, to not go quietly into the dark. 

But paled against the images of men and women he’d fought beside going still and bloody in his arms. Memories of watching people in the prime of their lives trying to get back to their feet so they could keep going, only to collapse and go still. 

In the end, it didn’t matter if you fought or not. Death came for them all. 

It had made him jaded, angry once upon a time. The scars on his mind were carved deeper than those on his body and ensured that there was no hope of a peaceful retirement even after he was back home. He was a creature built to wage war. The only thing he could do was hope he waged war on the right kinds of monsters. 

With that in perspective, it really wasn’t a surprise that Geralt found himself gasping wetly for air on a floor already stained with drops of his blood. 

Getting Jaskier out of his handcuffs had taken the last of his flagging strength in more than one way. He’d wanted to cling to the thief so he didn’t die alone and in pain. He’d wanted to demand answers for all the questions that had kept him up every night. Maybe even ask why he’d left him that night—not that it mattered now. Letting Jaskier go had taken away the last of his hope that he could ever have that again..

He ignored the part of him that wondered if Jaskier would even go to Yennefer. It would be a risk. If Yennefer decided to arrest him on sight, Callum would escape. If Jaskier was recaptured or if he failed to find a police station quickly, Callum would escape. It was a sad demonstration of just how far he’d fallen that the best he could hope for was that Jaskier survived. 

The sound of footsteps coming closer brought a heavy sort of certainty. 

They would come and discover Jaskier was gone. 

When they did, Jaskier’s chances of escaping if he wasn’t already away from the building would drastically decrease. 

If Jaskier has escaped, they would turn their anger on Geralt. Something he would not survive. 

He swallowed and closed his eyes. Pushing away the sadness that came with the knowledge that he never got to say goodbye to Yenn or Ciri or any of his friends, he tried to imagine Callum’s face when Yennefer arrested him. There was no doubt that his partner would ever let him escape—especially after finding Geralt’s body.  _ If _ they found his body. 

The doorknob rattled somewhere to his left and he forced his eyes to open as the two men reentered the room. He felt a feral sort of delight when their eyes widened in shock at the missing thief and his own body stretched across the floor. 

The shorter, scarred man stepped forward like he could will the thief to reappear through sheer willpower. “What the fuck?” he growled at the room and then narrowed his eyes at Geralt. “Where’s the other one?”

Time, Geralt told himself. The only thing Geralt could give the thief now was more time to get away. 

So he gave them a mocking sneer that was all Yennefer and said, “Who?”

He saw the kick coming, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“How did he get out?” The quieter of the two asked with a frown to his partner. “It wasn’t like he could pick the lock.”

Geralt coughed and spat blood onto the ground, not bothering to answer. 

“It doesn’t matter how he did it. Callum will gut us both if we let him escape.”

They started toward the door and Geralt felt a bolt of panic at the thought of them hunting down the injured thief. He estimated that he’d left around an hour ago, but he couldn’t be sure how much Jaskier’s injuries might slow him down. This sacrifice would be meaningless if they just dragged Jaskier back to die alongside Geralt. 

He had to give Jaskier more time. 

“Maybe you should check with your mother,” he rasped, “I hear they’re good friends.”

In terms of good insults, it wasn’t his best, but it didn’t matter much to the scarred henchman. 

He whirled on Geralt with open fury. Geralt curled himself into a ball to try to protect his injured ribs as blows rained down on him. He grit his teeth against the urge to scream when a booted foot connected with his spine and dug into the knife wound bleeding steadily from his thigh, jostling the blade still lodged there. 

“Ed,” the second man said with a note of censure, “we need to search the building. He might not have gotten far.”

Ed gave Geralt another kick and sneered down at the injured cop on the floor. He reached down and pulled Geralt’s head up by his bloodied hair and glared into dazed, golden eyes. “When I come back, I’m going to butcher you like the pig you are.”

Baring his bloodied teeth, Geralt snarled back, “Can’t wait.”

The blow to the back of his head ensured he didn’t hear Ed’s response. 

* * *

A bucket of cold water ripped him away from the relative peace of unconsciousness. 

He gasped and groaned with pain when the abrupt motion made his ribs grate together with white hot pain. His body throbbed with the lingering soreness that came from lying motionless on cold concrete and the patchwork of bruises and cuts vying for his attention. 

Opening his eyes, he winced when the world spun in a dizzying lurch of vertigo. He forced himself to breathe evenly through his nose until the urge to vomit was under control. Blood dripped down the side of his face and he added concussion to his mental list of injuries. 

“How did you do it?”

Geralt dragged his eyes up from the dirty floor and squinted at the bigger of the two henchmen squatting next time him. There was genuine curiosity in his expression and he didn’t look particularly upset about the unexpected disappearance. He couldn’t decide which man was worse—the one who hurt Geralt because he liked it or the man who would kill him just because he was told to. 

The cop sent a surreptitious look around the room and felt a wave of dizzying relief when there was no sign of Jaskier. It meant the thief had managed to make it safely away from this hellhole. 

“You couldn’t find him,” Geralt said in response, a small smile twitching at his lips. 

The other man sighed, glancing once at the door. “It would have been better for you if we had.”

“Then you’d just kill us both.”

“Death is not the worst thing that can happen to a person.” The man looked curious even as he pulled a gun from his waistband to gesture at Geralt. “Was he worth it?”

Geralt thought about the first time he’d heard Jaskier’s voice—teasing even as he grounded Geralt against the uncertainty of the darkness. He thought about the first shock of brushing against firm muscle and the rush of pleasure that came with meeting his match in another person. Of long nights spent listening to Jaskier paint pictures with his words and the comfort of having someone who recognized the darkness within him and didn’t flinch away. 

He let himself remember all the emotions he’d been avoiding since the night when Jaskier had left him. The slow bloom of warmth that followed the ping of a new text or soft memory of the two of them. The tremble in Jaskier’s hands when Geralt had been hurt in the alleyway after he’d been attacked. For the past week, he’d told himself he hated the thief for making him feel like this. Like he’d gained weakness and strength all at once. 

Like he’d found the person he’d been searching for without even knowing it. 

He felt the knowledge of what he felt for the thief settle into his bones and marrow like a weight. Only instead of panic, he felt like he could breathe for the first time. Ironic that this knowledge would come at the end of his life. 

Geralt straightened his spine until his whole body trembled with effort and answered without any trace of hesitation. 

“Yes.  _ He _ was worth it.”

The man’s mouth went flat, but before he could speak the door to the room slammed open with a thud and Ed hurried inside. “We need to finish him off quick. Callum wants us back at the airport now.”

Geralt found himself looking down the barrel of the gun across from him once more, trying to tell himself he could be at peace dying here. Before the other man could tighten his finger around the trigger, Ed threw out a hand. 

“Not yet, Joe,” he said quickly, “I don’t feel like hauling a dead body down the stairs. Well shoot him near the dock and dump him there. The fish will take care of the rest.”

Joe barely looked at Geralt before tucking the gun out of sight. “We haven’t wiped down the building for prints.”

“Won’t matter. Callum won’t be coming back here which means we won’t either.”

_ Or Callum will just shoot you once I’m dead so he doesn’t have any loose strings before he starts over in Europe _ , Geralt thought darkly. Not that he thought anyone would grieve the loss of these assholes. 

“On your feet,” Joe ordered with a gesture of his hand. 

Geralt barely resisted the urge to snort. What reason did he have to go along with their orders when he was dead either way?

Ed must have sensed where his thoughts had gone because he reached down to land a sharp kick to Geralt’s side that sent pain shooting through his limbs like a lightning bolt. He sobbed out a breath, tasting iron. Cruel fingers yanked his head up to stare in Ed’s malicious brown eyes. 

“Believe me when I say I hope you give me a reason to make this as long an painful as possible,” he purred, dragging a finger over Geralt’s cheek, “Callum doesn’t have to know what we did to you before getting rid of you.”

The sick delight in his eyes made Geralt rear back and force himself to his knees despite the way it made his breath turn ragged and his heart thunder in his ears. He told himself that his chances of getting out would increase if he was able to find a weapon or get closer to the street, but he knew it was a weak hope now. 

His legs buckled when he tried to get upright and he would have fallen if it weren’t for Ed abruptly bracing him along one side. The two thugs must have gotten tired of waiting for Geralt to make it out under his own power because Ed remained at his side as he wobbled forward. Even with the help, his vision grayed and went fuzzy at the edges until he was stumbling blindly forward. 

He heard Joe move ahead of them down the hallway, pausing occasionally to wipe down areas of the warehouse that the men must have left evidence in. It was obvious that he didn’t trust Callum to be as protective of his henchmen’s future as he was of his own. Ed huffed, but didn’t protest his partner’s movements. 

Pain was making his head foggy so he forced his wandering thoughts to catalogue every new piece of evidence he might need to ensure that all of these bastards paid. He ignored the cynical thought that it wouldn’t matter if he was dead. 

The warehouse looked like it had been used for storage before finally being abandoned for nicer facilities. He could smell the faint scent of stale hay that was used to pack objects so they weren’t damaged in transit. There were plenty of rooms that were perfect for storing prisoners out of sight. Large windows that were cracked and broken after years of vandalism looked out to the soft greys of a new dawn. He wished he could tell how long that meant Jaskier had been gone, but it was useless without knowing how long he’d been held here. 

Without his shirt and with blood drying on his skin, Geralt shivered uncontrollably with each new step. Shock, his mind supplied. Experience confirmed the diagnosis, but he could do fuck all about it so he ignored it. 

It wouldn’t matter for much longer. 

Ed pushed him toward the outer doors and the scent of river water beyond and Geralt hated himself for the way he was forced to lean against the other man. Each step was a study in agony and he knew he would die on this dirty warehouse floor if he couldn’t keep moving forward. Somehow the thought of dying without feeling the sun on his face felt like the worst thing imaginable. 

His next step forward caused his thigh bone to grate against the knife in his leg and he barely resisted the urge to look down in shock. At first, they’d left the knife as an added torment and a way to keep him from bleeding out. Now, they must have forgotten it was even there against the overwhelming weakness that left him unable to stand. 

It was the closest thing to a plan he could manage now. If he pulled the knife free, he might be able to kill Ed before Joe turned around and shot him. He wondered if that taste of revenge would wash away the bitterness of dying today. 

Joe shouldered open the loading bay door and let in the chilly morning air with a grunt. Beyond him, the river moved steadily toward the harbor, uncaring of petty human troubles and ready for the moment when Geralt’s body sank beneath its surface. Any hope of someone stumbling onto them before they shot Geralt died when he didn’t hear any passing cars or even voices nearby. 

“How should we finish this, hmm?” Ed asked in Geralt’s ear with a vicious smirk. “I bet you wouldn’t last long if we just put you in the water. We could just sit here, nice and dry, while you slowly fill your lungs with river water.”

As he spoke, his fingers trailed over Geralt’s chest in a mockery of gentleness, pausing to occasionally dig his fingers into areas where he knew it would hurt most. It made his stomach roil with nausea that had him gagging and spitting bile onto the old wooden dock beneath their feet. 

Imagining himself sinking into the dark waves made him shudder and a cold sweat drip down his back despite his intention to remain uncaring. At least a bullet would be quick. He didn’t want to imagine how long he would fight to get back to the surface before he finally accepted his end. 

Ed grinned, enjoying the fear blooming in his eyes. “Maybe if you ask me very, very nicely I’ll kill you before we dump you into the water. Hmm? Show me what Callum missed out on and I’ll—“

Before he could finish the thought, Geralt shifted slightly and threw his head forward with the last of his flagging strength. 

The crack of Ed’s nose snapping beneath the blow sounded like music. It made his head throb with pain, but it was nothing compared to the roar of fury from his captor as he shoved Geralt hard enough to send him to the ground. 

This time there was no reason for Ed to stop his assault. Geralt tried to pull up his hands to cover his face, but Ed only shifted his rage to Geralt’s bruised stomach. His lungs emptied in a painful whoosh that had panic blooming bright and overwhelming through him. He tried to reach out, desperate to stop the attack, but was only rewarded with a backhanded slap across his face. 

He was going to die here, he thought. 

It didn’t matter that it was unfair. It wouldn’t change just because he realized he was in love with Jaskier, but never got to say the words aloud. These men wouldn’t care that he’s been trying to save innocents or that Callum was evil personified. He was going to die without ever even knowing if Yenn managed to end Callum’s bloody business. 

Against the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears and his desperate attempts to breathe, he almost didn’t hear the gunshot. 

There was a curse above him and Geralt was helpless against the hands that reached down to drag him onto trembling feet. His vision spotted dangerously and he couldn’t fight back when Ed dragged him until he was partially draped over the smaller man’s front. A hard metal gun barrel pressed against his temple with open intent that was belied by the way Geralt could feel him trembling. 

“Don’t come any closer!” Ed shouted next to Geralt’s ear, “I’ll shoot him—I swear I will!”

Geralt blinked away the darkness at the edges of his vision and let his head lull forward until he could look around. 

A few feet away, Joe’s body was sprawled across the ancient dock. A dark stain seeped away from his torso in a growing puddle around him and Geralt watched his hands twitch once before going still. 

Hope flaring to life at the realization that someone had shot the other man, Geralt swung his head up to scan the rest of the dock with greedy eyes. There was no sign of a heavily armored SWAT team or Yennefer’s familiar face stalking toward him. Instead there was a single figure standing silhouetted against the grey warehouse. 

Staring down the barrel of a gun, he knew he should be afraid. He should be thinking of Ed’s voice shouting in his ear or the gun digging into the side of his head or even the blood dripping freely down his face. But in all the chaos, only one emotion coursed through his veins.

Relief.

“Jaskier,” he gasped, voice soft like saying the name would make the hallucination disappear. 

Because it had to be a hallucination standing in front of him—some final gift his dying mind created to help him cross over. A friendly Charon to entice him away from the living. 

The image of the thief looked angrier than Geralt had ever seen him. There was still blood splattered across his face and clothes, but his hands were steady where they kept the gun trained on Ed. 

“I’ll shoot him!” Ed threatened shrilly again. 

Fierce blue eyes flicked over Geralt with a mixture of desperate fear and rage. “Let him go,” the hallucination growled, voice like a blade against a whetstone. 

“Drop the gun and I’ll let you have your precious little cop.”

Jaskier looked back at Geralt before eyeing the gun in Ed’s hands. “Fine,” he bit out and shifted his grip on his weapon to a more neutral position, “but you should know you have about two minutes until this whole block is swarming with cops. If you try to kill Geralt, they’ll lock you away in some dark hole where you’ll never see the light of day again.”

Ed’s grip on Geralt’s neck tightened until he couldn’t stop the helpless noises of protest that escaped his lips. His hands twitched at his side, desperate to find something that he could use to escape this. 

“You’re bluffing,” Ed blustered as he watched the thief, “you wouldn’t call the police and risk them arresting you too.”

The sound of the gun hitting the ground made Geralt’s focus dart back to Jaskier in time to see the other man give him a crooked smile. “For him I would.”

The world seemed to go still around them, meaningless against the weight of each word spoken and the sincerity in the thief’s eyes. 

_ I love you _ , he thought a little desperately. 

Jaskier’s eyes went impossibly soft despite the worry keeping him impossibly tense. He could see the way the thief seemed barely in control of the urge to close the distance between them. It was obvious in the way he kept shifting his weight in preparation for closing the distance between them. 

Jaskier had come back for him. Just like he promised. 

Behind him, Ed’s body tensed in a way that could only mean he intended to attack while the other man was disarmed. That quickly, Geralt made his choice. The thief had risked everything to return and even if this was an illusion, Geralt refused to let him get hurt trying to save him. 

It made it almost easy to reach down with his right hand to yank the knife in his thigh free with a spray of blood and jam it into the side of Ed’s throat. 

The last thing he heard before he collapsed was Jaskier screaming his name. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whump there it is.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In return for taking a month to get this posted, enjoy this extra long chapter full of whump.

The collapse was almost a relief.

A reminder that there was nothing left to fight. Just the inevitable pull of gravity bringing him back to earth in a crumpled heap. 

He barely felt the rough boards of the dock when he landed against them. It was a meaningless concern now. 

His body had gone beyond the bright agony of his injuries into the hazy beyond that signalled it wouldn’t be long now. Whatever fear and worry was bleeding away with the blood seeping into the fabric of his pants. He’d signed his death certificate the moment he’d pulled the knife free. The cold of the salt crusted wood made him shiver and the ache in his limbs sink deeper.

The only warmth was the wetness seeping into his ruined clothing from where Ed was bleeding out over him. The added weight on top of him made breathing difficult and he panted against the rough timbers of the dock. It felt as though his body was fighting over what method would kill him first--would it be the blood loss? Or a slow suffocation beneath the body of his enemy?

Then the awful weight was shifted off of him and he sucked in a shallow breath greedily. It made his broken ribs burn in protest, but his lungs couldn’t seem to relax even with the fresh oxygen. Part of him wished his body wasn’t preconditioned to survive. It would be so much easier to just sink into the darkness threading through the edges of his vision.

Achingly gentle hands rolled him onto his back, easing some of the pressure on his ribs even if he still couldn’t seem to fill his lungs enough to satisfy some of the ache in his chest. It drew more attention to the cold sweat breaking out over his exposed skin and made him shiver. He winced up at the sunlight dying over the edge of the buildings in the distance and let his eyes close around cooler shades of grey.

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s voice sounded wretched, “oh shit. This is bad. Stay awake for me, Geralt.”

Geralt’s head rolled limply when Jaskier lifted him partially against him, the angle allowing him to take a deeper breath of sea air. The thief made another rough sound and shifted to pull off the hoodie he must have pulled on over his bloodstained clothes. He pressed it against the bleeding wound in Geralt’s thigh, murmuring apologies when it made Geralt hiss out a breath.

“This is nice,” he rasped.

Jaskier hummed, distracted by trying to put pressure on the injury. “Only you would think bleeding on a pier is  _ nice _ .”

“Just...didn’t want to...die alone,” Geralt said, letting his eyes slide shut to avoid the look of devastation on the other man’s face. “Didn’t...think I’d see you again.”

“ _ Don’t _ .” The word was so sharp that Geralt’s eyes fluttered and he felt Jaskier’s fingers clenched around his tangled hair, “Don’t talk like that. You aren’t dying.”

His lips twitched into the ghost of a smile.

He was so tired.

“Geralt?”

He just needed to sleep.

“ _ Geralt _ .”

He didn’t fall into the darkness as much as he was swept away.

* * *

Something was rocking him back and forth, the motion too jarring to allow him to sink any deeper beneath the waves. He wanted to push it away, but it only clutched him tighter. 

“...don’t do this, baby. Please.  _ Please _ , Geralt. Open your eyes.”

He frowned, bothered despite his growing exhaustion by the fear in the voice. Jaskier shouldn’t be afraid. They were supposed to be safe.

His mind drifted for a long moment, buffeted by the rocking motion caused by the arms around him. He wasn’t sure how long it was before he finally remembered what he was trying to say.

“Jas…”

Jaskier reacted like he’d been electrified, arms tensing even as he released a breath. “There you are. You have to stay awake, Geralt. You can’t sleep yet.”

“Tired.”

“I know, baby. I know,” he murmured, then leaned away to glare in the direction of the warehouse. “They should be here by now.”

Geralt considered asking who it was Jaskier had called, but it seemed like an insurmountable task right now. He glanced down to where the knife had been and noticed the thief had tied the hoodie into a pressure bandage around the muscle, trying to slow the bleeding that had turned the material dark and shiny. 

Focusing felt like it took the last of his flagging strength, but he forced his eyes to open and look at the man holding him. “You came back,” he whispered, barely audible. 

“Of course, of course I did.” Jaskier looked down at him, trying to smile against the worry in his eyes. “I never would have left you there if I thought we both could’ve made it out before they came back. But I was always coming back.”

“I—“

He cut himself off when Jaskier went stiff beside him. A moment later the cause became clearer when Geralt heard a familiar sound rise above the dull roar in his ears. 

Sirens. 

Immediately, a new flood of adrenaline surged through his veins. The police were coming. Jaskier must have told them where they’d been held captive so they would help Geralt. He thought of how furious Yennefer had been after Jaskier had left him and knew his partner would never let Jaskier escape the jail cell waiting for him. 

They would take Jaskier somewhere where Geralt couldn’t reach him.

“Jas.” He rasped, fingers trembling for purchase against the thief, “go.”

“What? Geralt, I’m not leaving you—“

Geralt managed a weak growl, ignoring the way the effort made his vision go grey at the edges. “You have to go!” He tried again. 

“No,” Jaskier bit back stubbornly. “I’m not about to just let you bleed out here!”

Panting with the strain, Geralt could feel his hold on consciousness beginning to fade. His fingers felt numb now and it was far too easy to let them fall limply to the dock beneath him. The memory of the pain he’d been in just a few minutes before was far away now. He felt nothing but the fuzzy darkness waiting behind his eyelids. 

He was adrift in icy waters, sliding up his tired limbs. Making his heart slow to match the force dragging him undertow. Pulling him toward the darkness and the peace it promised. 

He sucked in a breath that felt meaningless to his aching lungs and tried to focus on getting Jaskier far away from here. “I’ll be fine, Jas...You have to, to go.”

“No,” Jaskier growled back, setting his jaw. “I won’t.”

“...doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice had taken on a dreamy, breathy quality and he only distantly noticed how frightened the thief looked. 

“Stay awake, Geralt,” Jaskier warned before raising his voice to a shout. “We’re over here! We need a medic! Officer down!”

Geralt shook his head, but his tongue felt thick in his mouth. Each movement felt like he was treading through water. “...’s okay. Doesn’t hurt…”

“Help! We need help!” Jaskier called as Geralt’s eyes grew heavy. 

“I’ll...be okay. P-promis—“

The water slipped over his head. 

* * *

“--shit, Geralt?  _ Geralt _ ! Oh, fuck--MEDIC!”

“He’s bleeding out!”

“Get him on the stretcher! I need him stabilized.”

“--Geralt!”

* * *

Bright lights forced him up for the depths to stare blearily up at an unfamiliar sea of faces.

“Patient is 32 year old male suffering from multiple contusions, potential broken ribs, and knife wound in right leg.”

A male’s voice near his ear made him blink. “Get an IV started. He’s going into shock.” 

“Jas…” Geralt’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“We need the OR cleared immediately. He’s got fluid in his lungs.”

“...p-please,” he said weakly, trying to find dark hair and bright eyes among the people crowding around him. “Where…?”

“You’re okay, officer,” a woman soothed, “you’re at Thompson’s General Hospital--”

The thought sent a bolt of terror through him. He couldn’t be here. He needed to get back. He needed to make sure Jaskier was okay. He had to  _ protect _ him. His fingers twitched against scratchy bedsheets.

“ _ Jaskier _ .”

This time he managed to get his weakened limbs to react enough to reach out blindly, knocking over a tray of metal instruments nearby. 

“Somebody sedate him--he’s going to injure himself further.” A sharp prick at his neck punctuated the order and Geralt felt his panicked heartbeat match the sharp beeping in the background.

“Please…” he managed before he was swept away again.

* * *

Beep.

Beep. Beep.

A steady rhythm pulled him up from whatever depths he’d sunk into. His mind focused on it lazily, thoughts moving as leaves falling from a tree. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

He shifted, feeling the drag of sheets against his bare legs and frowned. There was a tight band wrapped around his torso that his mind hazily recognized as a bandage and he could feel the itch of new stitches scattered around his body. Something about the sensation felt foreign and unwelcomed, but he couldn’t seem to remember why. 

There was a sound nearby and it was enough to have his eyes slowly opening and blinking away the last vestiges of long dried tears. Slowly, he took in the room and the bed he was laying in. 

The plain walls adorned with paintings of dull fruits and landscapes would have identified the space as a hospital room even if he hadn’t seen the machines and nurse’s charts beside the bed. There was an IV strapped to his hand and linked to a collection of clear bags of fluid and enough pain medication to explain why he couldn’t feel his new collection of injuries. He could hear the faint sounds of people walking and talking outside the room, but he ignored them for now in favor of looking over the woman hunched awkwardly in the chair beside his bed.

Yennefer’s normally immaculate clothes were rumpled and wrinkled in a way that he recognized as a side effect from working a case for too long. Her dark hair looked a little greasy from the dirt that was still streaked around her face to match the dark circles beneath her eyes.

“Yen…” he breathed, barely able to hear the words over the sounds of his heart monitor.

Somehow she must have heard it because she jerked and immediately snapped her oddly colored eyes over to his bed. She made a rough sound that made a low thrum of guilt curl through his gut before leaning over him. Her eyes darted over his face like she was confirming he was really awake before she glared at him.

“You scared me,” she said--somehow making the statement a mixture of threat and relief.

“What…?” His voice cracked dangerously and his partner was darting over to press a cup of water into his hands before he could ask. 

It took several gulps of tepid water before he felt like he could speak, but it helped chase away the worst of the drowsiness that continued to pull at him. 

“You’ve been here for three days,” Yennefer explained briskly. “Enough time for a team to intercept Callum at the airport before he could make it to international waters. I made sure of it myself.”

He stared at her, trying to decide how he felt about finding out that his case was finally over. All those weeks of searching and hunting for the source of all the robberies only discover the culprit had been under his nose the whole time. Geralt decided that he had bigger things to worry about.

“Where’s Jaskier?”

His partner looked away. “You mean the thief?”

“I mean Jaskier.” A new bolt of fear had the machine beside him beginning to beep in protest. Yennefer made an aborted movement toward him, but Geralt shook his head in a rough jerk. He panted, abruptly feeling like he couldn’t breathe. “Where is he?”

“Geralt, you need to calm down. I’ll explain as soon as you calm down.” 

His partner stood awkwardly, clearly struggling through the urge to reach out and touch him when he clearly was becoming more and more agitated. Geralt glared at her as his mind began to realize why it had been Yennefer sitting alone in his room.

The only reason Jaskier wouldn’t be here with him, after everything they’d gone through together, was if he’d been forced to leave. They must have arrested the thief as soon as they’d found him with Geralt. And Jaskier, Jaskier called the police there. To save  _ Geralt _ . To save his life.

Only to lose his own freedom.

Gasping through lungs that suddenly seemed unable to fill, Geralt blinked through the black spots in his vision as alarms began to go off all around him. The sound of his racing heart felt like it was drowning out all other noise, broken only by the ragged sound of his breathing. 

Jaskier was gone. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. 

He was gone again. 

Yennefer moved closer, leaning over him and he stared up at her while her lips shaped words that he could seem to hear. He shook his head, panic mixing with a pain that even the morphine couldn’t stop.

Nurses flooded the room, reaching for the IV and the monitors, but he ignored them. “You let them take him,” he growled. “He saved me and you let them take him.”

His partner backed away, shaking her head, but he ignored her.

He was almost grateful when the medication kicked in and he could stop thinking again.

* * *

Geralt rose to awareness slowly, listless. He could still smell the faint tinge of antiseptic and cleaner that always seemed to permeate the air of hospitals. He hated it. He wanted to be in his apartment, curled up in familiar sheets so he could remember in peace.

A finger brushed over the hand without an IV and he twitched, ticklish.

“Geralt?” a soft, hopeful voice whispered.

Immediately, his eyes shot open and darted over to the person sitting at his bedside. His heart rate monitor screeched a warning, but he was too focused on tracing over features he’d last seen covered in blood and tears.

“Jaskier,” he breathed, voice hoarse with emotion.

The thief looked like he hadn’t slept in days, wearing a shirt and pair of sweats that bore the logo of the hospital. There were several empty cups of coffee lining the table beside the bed along with a few fast food wrappers that couldn’t fit in the trash can. Jaskier’s hair was tousled as though he’d been raking his fingers through it and Geralt had to resist the urge to reach out and fix some of the mess.

“How--?” he started, then frowned again, “What happened?”

“Do you mean before or after you decided to try to kill yourself?” A hot blush curled up Geralt’s neck at the sharp look in the other man’s eyes, but it was softened by the way Jaskier reached out to bring Geralt’s hand to his lips. A complicated expression flickered over his face. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Geralt said wryly. His eyes drifted shut lazily, his body still exhausted. “I’ll try to rescue us more effectively next time.”

“Let’s just try to avoid that for a while--at least until I can recover from this time.” Jaskier’s smile was tired, but no less sincere.

“You’re hurt?” It was enough to make him open his eyes with more focus. He took in the rumpled clothing with more intent, trying to pick out the bandages that might indicate more than a surface injury.

Jaskier reached out to catch his hand again before he could attempt to sit up. “I’m fine,” he said quickly, “just some bruises and scrapes. Callum didn’t want to risk me not being able to speak if I finally broke.”

The reminder of just why he and Jaskier had been taken curbed some of the contentedness seeping into him. Callum had targeted Jaskier for a reason--one that had obviously been kept from Geralt by the thief. Whether that choice had been due to a lack of trust or just a fear of reprisal, he couldn’t say, but it was enough to have him slowly pulling his hand free from the other man’s grip.

“Why haven’t you been arrested?” he asked. 

Jaskier’s shoulder tightened with a new tension and he straightened in his uncomfortable chair. When he spoke, his tone was business-like and lacked the charming humor Geralt associated with him. “Believe me, she tried,” he muttered with a glance out the hallway like he expected the other officer to appear. Then he leaned forward like he was trying to prove with only his eyes his sincere, “Listen, Geralt, there are some things I couldn’t tell you--”

“Officer Rivia?”

The unexpected voice made both of them jerked and looked over at the door. Framed by the doorframe, a stern looking blonde woman stared back at them. She was wearing slacks and a plain white button down shirt that practically screamed government official. Her eyes were narrowed on the two of them with particular venom directed toward the thief.

Jaskier stood like she’d pointed a gun at them, moving so he partially blocked her view of Geralt. “Priscilla...Agent Barric, please don’t do this. You said you would give me time to talk to him. To explain things,” he pleaded.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, concerned with the new tension growing in the room.

“Officer Rivia,” the woman repeated, “I’m here to debrief you and discuss the information you gathered that is relevant to the case against Callum Rookwood.” She paused and gave Jaskier a look. “Alone.”

“I just need a little time, please,” Jaskier said and Geralt watched his fingers pluck at the hem of his shirt like he needed something to do with his hands.

“He needs to be debriefed. “

“Can’t you just give us a fucking minute?” Jaskier snapped back. 

Whatever sympathy she might have had for the man abruptly was replaced with icy competence. “Get out, Special Agent. Before you get into even more trouble.”

Geralt went very still.

“What?” he breathed.

Jaskier whirled to face him, blue eyes wide with panic. “Geralt, I--I wanted to tell you. I--”

The machines began to sound more urgent as he struggled to comprehend this information. He thought back to the way Jaskier had seemed to be everywhere Geralt looked for this case. How the thief hadn’t seemed bothered about working with the police. Even how willing Jaskier had been to assist Geralt when he’d been hurt seemed obvious now.

He’d been so stupid to believe all the lies he’d been told.

Jaskier reached out like he wanted to cup Geralt’s cheek, but he shifted slightly to make the thief pause mid-motion. Something close to agony flashed across those blue eyes.

“Agent Pancratz, you are to report for your own debrief while I speak to Officer Rivia,” the woman continued and her voice softened slightly with the barest amounts of sympathy at Jaskier’s expression. “Go on, Jaskier. Essi has been looking forward to seeing you again.”

Jaskier stared at Geralt for another long moment before slowly walking out the door.

Geralt tried not to wonder if he would ever come back.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be the last one. Stay tuned!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here--the Finale!

“Officer Rivia, my name is Special Agent Barric. I’ve been assigned by the FBI’s taskforce responsible for the charges being made against Callum Rookwood and Rookwood Industries,” the woman said briskly as she settled into the chair Jaskier had abandoned.

Geralt watched her in an effort to avoid the thoughts that were rattling around like moths to a flame. She was dressed in an ill fitting black suit that managed to make her legs seen both too short and too muscular for her frame. It, along with the harsh halogen lighting, made her skin seem sallow and pale and weakened the effect of her sharp cheekbones and clever eyes. 

The officer flicked her eyes over the array of medical equipment and didn’t comment on the way he continued to remain silent. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, handheld recorder which went on the table beside him. 

“I’d like to ask you about the events that transpired over the last month between yourself and Callum Rookwood,” she said.

“You don’t want to ask me about Jaskier?” 

There was a dull panic burrowing through the confusing mixture of betrayal and dismay. Geralt had risked everything to help a thief who hadn’t even truly been a criminal. He’d broken countless rules and created a laundry list of reasons why he should be fired. As soon as he confirmed that he’d knowingly assisted Jaskier without any knowledge of his position as an undercover officer, it would be the end of his career.

“Officer Pancratz has already given his statement about what occurred.”

Nausea fought with the discomfort of his injuries until he was tempted to reach for the morphine drip for something to numb the sensation. Jaskier had already told them everything. In order to ensure that Callum would go to jail for his crimes, he would have to tell them the truth and avoid any chance of a mistrial.

For Callum to go to jail, Geralt would need to tell them everything.

He took a deep breath. “What do you need to know?”

“How did you make contact with Rookwood?”

Geralt looked at the tiny, blinking red light on the recorder and began to speak.

He told her about meeting Callum at the party with Yennefer and the way he’d attempted to use the man’s connections as a way to make a break in the case. He told her about being attacked and the way Jaskier had arrived in time to save him. He described the evidence he’d slowly gathered and the way Callum had finally decided to stop him for good.

Along the way, Geralt tried not to think about all the clues he’d missed about Jaskier’s true identity.

_ I told you to leave it alone. I told you to stop looking into these robberies and you refuse to listen. _

Yennefer had been right all along. His infatuation with the thief had made him stupid. He’d been so caught up with his questions that he’d missed the proof right in front of him. And Jaskier...Jaskier had watched him betray all of his moral codes because he thought he was in love with a thief.

He was an idiot.

Whatever feelings he’d thought Jaskier had for him wouldn’t be enough to keep his job when the truth came out. Geralt would be lucky if the police department didn’t decide to press their own charges against him. This case would ruin him.

“What made you consider Callum to be a suspect?” Barric asked.

“When we realized that there each robbery appeared to be moving along the coast and followed bursts of new crime in each city, my part--I began to look for connections between each robbery.” He cursed the slip that might implicate Yennefer as well and continued forward doggedly, hoping the other officer wouldn’t notice. “There were no common employees or company associations that I could find. I even looked into what was stolen as a way of explaining some sort of connection between each crime.”

“So what made you connect the dots?”

Geralt shook his head, rueful. “It was never about what they took--it was about what they left behind.”

Officer Barric leaned forward, looking intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“In every location, the company would hire a new security team to avoid another loss. And each time, Rookwood Industries would step up.”

“So they created ways to break through their own security systems?”

“They needed a way to keep their smuggling under wraps. No one thinks twice about groups of people going in and out of a museum with bags from the giftshop--” His expression darkened at the memory of what else Callum disclosed, “--or children.”

The other officer looked disgusted at the thought, noting something on the pad of paper she’d produced at the beginning of the interview.

“How did you know Callum had kidnapped Officer Pancratz?”

The title made whatever satisfaction that had bloomed with the reminder of what they’d successfully prevented from continuing when they’d arrested Callum disappeared at the reminder of Jaskier’s real title.

“I didn’t,” Geralt said briskly. “Jas--Officer Pancratz called me right before they’d taken him so I was looking for him. We’d managed to track the call to the alley where they grabbed him, but not much else. Callum approached me when I went home to get some rest. At the time, I didn’t have enough evidence to be sure that he was responsible for anything. He attacked me that night and brought me to the warehouse.”

“Why did he risk taking you?”

“They’d been interrogating Jaskier without any luck. I guess they thought I might know something about him.”

“And did you?” Geralt dropped his eyes to the blankets to avoid looking at her, “Were you able to tell them anything about Officer Pancratz?”

A dark flush curled up his neck. “How could I? Everything I knew about him was a lie.” She hummed, reaching over to turn off the recorder. He looked over in surprise, frowning a little. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my relationship with Jaskier?”

Her eyebrow arched in a way that reminded him of Yennefer. “ _ Is _ there a relationship between the two of you?”

“I--” he faltered, bruised hands plucking at the thin blanket. “I guess not.”

For a long moment, there was only the sound of his heartbeat on the monitor and the faint sound of voices outside. Then the other officer sighed, scrubbing her hands over her face, and leaned closer.

“Listen,” she said, “I am not at liberty to comment on what occurred between you and Julian--” Geralt mouthed the name silently and tried not let the knowledge increase the betrayal he was already seeped in, “--Frankly, the less I know, the better off we’ll both be. This case relies on you and Julian’s testimony and I don’t want to risk Rookwood’s lawyers attempting to call for a mistrial. Luckily, I’m not the only one willing to look the other way and consider your impeccable record evidence enough that you are not inclined towards evil.”

Relief made his heart monitor beep in alarm, but they both ignored it. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

She waved off the gratitude impatiently and looked at him more closely. “I also know Julian--we’ve been working together on this case for years. I was his handler.”

“So you knew he’d made contact with me.” 

The thought of Jaskier telling his superior officer about leading Geralt on a wild goose chase made his jaw clench until it ached. 

“I know that telling you the truth about his identity was the only time we argued about his status as an undercover operative.” Geralt looked up at her in surprise and she gave him a rueful smile. “He’s always been a bit impetuous.”

He snorted derisively, then sobered. “He still lied to me.”

Officer Barric nodded again as she slowly got to her feet. “That’s true. I guess it’s up to you to decide if that’s the most important element of this story.” She grabbed the recorder and her notes from the table and gave him a lazy salute. “Our lawyers will be in contact with you when the court sets a date for the trial and to recover the evidence you found while investigating.”

Geralt nodded and watched her walk away, thoughts churning.

Part of him expected Jaskier to reappear in the doorway as soon as Barric left. Instead, another familiar face peeked through.

“Yenn,” he said, relieved to see her in one piece.

Yennefer walked over to the bed and fussed with the scratchy sheet, face set into a scowl. “This is unacceptable,” she growled instead of meeting his eyes. “They wouldn’t even let me see you until they interrogated you like you’re some kind of  _ criminal-- _ ”

He caught her hand before she could attempt to redo the sheets and forced her to look at him. The wet sheen of her eyes made a new guilt bloom. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You have no idea what it was like. You, you just disappeared! By the time I got there, Roach was losing her mind and all that was left was your damn phone so I couldn’t even trace your call,” she babbled, looking more frazzled than he’d ever seen.

“How did you find me?”

She huffed out a breath, tossing a glare toward the door. “Your insane little thief called my cell--apparently he memorized it after he saw it on your phone--and told me where you were.”

Geralt thought of the way Jaskier had reappeared on the pier when he was trapped with Callum’s two thugs. If he strained, he could remember the sound of a familiar voice shouting for the medic and putting pressure on his wounds. The reminder made his leg and aching ribs throb and he shifted a little on the mattress, trying to get more comfortable.

“He’s not my anything. He’s not even a thief,” he grumbled.

“FBI agent or not, he’s still a little shit for what he did. I’d kick his ass if I didn’t owe him for hauling  _ your _ dumbass out of there.”

Geralt smirked at her. “Aw, Yenn. I didn’t know you cared.”

“Quiet, you.” She snatched the small remote that controlled his pain medicine and jabbed the button. “Now stop trying to be a badass and let yourself heal.”

He was still smiling when the morphine dragged him under.

* * *

Someone was humming.

At first, he couldn’t quite place the tune. It toyed with a memory that made it familiar, but it wasn’t until a rough voice sang a few bars quietly that he finally recognized it.

“... _ I love myself, I want you to love me _ …”

“Hate that song,” he lied without opening his eyes, mind drifting to the memory of all the times Jaskier had called him.

There was the sound of someone shifting and, after a minute, a straw was placed at his lips. He drank deep, enjoying the respite from his dry throat.

Jaskier’s voice was careful, wary in a way he’d never been before. “No one hates the Divinyls. They’re a classic.”

Instead of answering, Geralt slowly blinked his eyes open and looked at the thief. 

Jaskier was seated in the same chair he’d been in the last time Geralt had woken up. His hair was damp from a shower and he was dressed in a fresh pair of sweats and shirt. Dark circles still lingered under his eyes and Geralt spared a moment to wonder if he’d slept since the last time they’d spoken.

“I didn’t think you’d be back.”

The thief’s face twisted into a complicated mixture of emotions and he looked down at his hands for a beat. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

“Stay.” The word seemed to surprise both of them and Geralt cleared his throat to avoid Jaskier’s eyes. “I have questions.”

“Oh, of course.” Jaskier sat up straighter like he was preparing to go up against a firing squad. “Whatever you want.”

“Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

A sigh. “I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t. Why?”

“At the time, we weren’t sure that the smugglers weren’t working with someone in the police department in each city. The fact that you were at the first robbery sight made you a person of interest.” Each word was delivered in the kind of flat, focused way that they were trained to do when questioned.

“You thought I was working with them?” 

Somehow, the implication felt like a blow.

Jaskier shook his head. “I bugged your apartment and tailed you for a few days, but it was obvious that you weren’t aware of what Callum was planning. You were a good cop--I didn’t want you to get involved.”

“Then why did you leave the phone?”

“It was…” The thief faltered, looking frustrated before he leaned forward. “Everything I learned about you made me want to know more. You were smart, loyal, and completely focused on the same case that I’d been dedicated to solving for years. It started to feel like we were partners, even if I wanted more.”

Geralt...wasn’t sure what to think about the last admission. Instead of responding to the question in Jaskier’s eyes, he asked something else.

“How long were you undercover?”

“Three years.”

“Why you?”

“I was already on the case when we started to think there was a link between the drugs and human trafficking in each area,” Jaskier explained, “The FBI tapped me to work undercover with the taskforce addressing it because I had a background in petty theft--” He gave a self-deprecating smirk, “--Nothing serious, just pocketed a few rich peoples’ wallets.”

“So you were trying to get picked up as a thief for their team?”

“Yes, although it became obvious pretty quickly that they weren’t looking for any new members--too much of a risk that someone would talk. So I shifted my focus to uncovering potential locations and trying to find their fence.”

Geralt nodded, turning over the new information for what he already knew. “Did you know they were going to rob the museum that night?”

Jaskier’s smile was a little sad. “Do you mean, ‘did I mean to get tied up in that closet?’ No, it was just bad luck--or good luck, depending on how you look at it.”

Sighing, Geralt let his head rest back against the pillows. He couldn’t seem to hold onto the same anger that had consumed him when he’d first learned who Jaskier really was. Now, he was just tired. He wanted to curl up like he had the night they’d slept together and wake up to watch the sun paint pictures on Jaskier’s bare skin.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked again, softer now. “Or would you have disappeared once the case was solved?”

“I was going to tell you everything as soon as I was sure the case was closed.” He reached out, then halted the gesture a few inches away from Geralt. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Is that why you left after fucking me?” Geralt challenged.

Jaskier winced, hand falling back to his lap. “I…” He took a deep breath and straightened, “The night we slept together, I got a call that there was a new shipment that had been intercepted near the museum. I was walking out of your apartment when I saw your notes and realized how close you were to solving this case and panicked that you were going to become their next target. I confessed to Priscilla--Officer Barric--that we were compromised and she ordered me to stay away from you until the case was closed.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair until it was a rictus of curls, “I managed to wait until the next day before I tried to call again.”

Geralt frowned. “I never got a call from you.”

“Oh I’m sure you didn’t,” Jaskier laughed a little bitterly, “Your sweet partner threatened to cut off my balls and feed them to me if I tried to contact you again. I took that to mean you weren’t interested in hearing my apologies.”

“I...didn’t know.”

He couldn’t say he was surprised. Yennefer had been near murderous after seeing the effect of Jaskier’s disappearance on Geralt. Geralt allowed so few people close to him that she’d understood just how much it had gutted him to find out Jaskier had abandoned him without explanation.

“I don’t blame her for being angry,” Jaskier said quietly, “I knew I’d destroyed any chance of being with you again after that. Part of me hoped that I could at least be satisfied that you would stay out of danger that way.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment--too lost in the blood stained memories of the warehouse and Callum’s men. The case seemed to have culminated in both their worst nightmare and the best case scenario for ensuring that Callum would go to jail for good.

“So what happens now?” Geralt finally asked.

Jaskier toyed with the edge of the sheet, face carefully blank. “It will take a few months to wrap everything up here for the case. Then I’ll be expected to take some time off before taking the psych eval to decide if I’m ready to return to active duty. My old apartment is already gone so I’ll need to start rebuilding my life, I guess.”

So this would be the end of things.

Jaskier had a life somewhere far away from Geralt. A life he would need to return to now that his case was a success. No doubt the FBI would be eager to have their agent back in his office and ready for another hunt to begin. There would be no need to think about Geralt or their brush with death.

As though he were privy to the thoughts that were swirling through his mind, Jaskier abruptly reached out to lay his hand on top of Geralt. The warm skin against his own was a shock and he looked up to watch Jaskier moving forward with something close to desperation in his eyes.

“Tell me to stay,” Jaskier begged, “Tell me there’s a chance and I’ll stay. Let me prove that I’m in love with you.”

Geralt licked his lips, feeling heat curling in the pit of his stomach when Jaskier’s eyes dropped to his mouth. He could feel his heart leaping eagerly in his chest like it was attempting to cross the distance between them on its own. 

Whatever his answer was, he knew Jaskier wouldn’t protest. If he told him to go, this would be the last moment they would spend with one another. He didn’t have to close his eyes to imagine what that world would be like--he’d felt it in the days after waking up alone.

What would it be like to open his eyes and see Jaskier smiling back at him? What would it feel like to hear his phone chime with another cheerful text and know he didn’t have to hide his smile at the sight? How would it feel to whisper the three words lurking at the tip of his tongue each time Jaskier looked back at him?

It felt like leaping free from a plane to close the distance between them. It was agony and salvation all at once to feel Jaskier’s breath at his lips. He let himself linger there, feeling the subtle tremble of hope from the thief.

“Stay,” he whispered.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always worry that my endings won't match the rest of the story or won't give you the closure you're looking for. Hopefully this is not the case with this story.
> 
> This version of Jaskier and Geralt was a joy to write--I adore the snarky little thief and all the bantering they manage while hunting for each other. This setting and framework was a little outside of my comfort zone and took a lot of work to make it to the end. Thank you for going on this journey with me and remaining patient when my muse hid itself away. I love you all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, you might also like some of my other works in this fandom or you can come hang out with me on tumblr @geraskierficrecs.


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